


Fair Game | Foul Play

by qblackheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qblackheart/pseuds/qblackheart
Summary: Life is like a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans: It's a risk with every mouthful.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally moved this fic from LJ, originally written for the spn_cinema challenge in 2011. I'll be doing this with all my fics over the next few months, hopefully.  
> This is the first and last work I've written in the HP fandom. With this story, it was nice, for once, to give in and let my British schooling come through in my words, so cheers for that. Overall, it was a delight to write and I loved having Brit!Boys running around in my head doing very adorable and honourable and naughty things to one another. As usual, when I write, the major theme is love and it always will be, but it was fun to give love a magical twist.  
> All the ‘artwork’ was created by me (I'm not an artist; I’m just doing it because it’s fun and I’m OCD like that). I don’t own any of the images used here; I just played with them. 
> 
> Comments = Love!
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta asher_k who, as always, is lovely and patient and just a doll to put up with my complete inability to write anything short. Thanks also to honscot for test reading, and to the mods at spn_cinema for running such a fun challenge!
> 
> Disclaimer: Fiction, not fact, except for the parts that are canon in Potterverse, if you can call those facts. The words belong to me, but not the fictional characters (although I’ll take Severus Snape for mine own any day), or the images contained within, or any of the real people, and certainly not Jensen and Jared (I wish, though. Often and with all my heart).

 

  
_Jensen Ackles, to his brother, Joshua, as he adamantly denied having any ‘feelings’ for Danneel Harris. As if Jensen would ever do something so mundane as to fall in love with some_ one _. Singular. When variety was the spice of life. Lust, on the other hand? Was very doable. Over and over again, and with excellent, highly satisfactory results._

 

                                                                                                

 

Jensen Ackles’ third year at Hogwarts was memorable for three reasons: it was the year he’d been selected to his House’s Quidditch team (as a reserve player, but it still counted in his opinion); it was the year his younger sister had joined him at school (his older brother had done his NEWTs and graduated the year prior); and it was the year he’d first met Jared Padalecki (and in no known universe should that have ever made his list of unforgettable moments, but it had, because anything and everything to do with Jared and Jensen together defied explanation and Jensen was more than used to it by now).  
   
All things considered, though, their first meeting had not been of the momentous sort.  
   
   
“Hello, Hufflepuff.”  
   
Jensen smiled, much like a shark, he fancied, and, had he been a Metamorphmagus, he probably would’ve looked like one too, just to scare the poor mite in front of him. Picking on little Hufflepuffs had fast become his second favourite sport while at school; it wasn’t that he was mean to them or anything (Jensen would never stoop to something so crass as bullying; that was far too vulgar a pastime and he had a reputation to uphold), he just liked to rumple their fur a bit – they were such cute little, bristly badger cubs – and this one was no different from the rest: shy and timid but with a hint of that bold badger spirit that would no doubt hone itself to be worthy of the House of Hufflepuff in later years. So Jensen was just doing his civic duty, really, speeding up the process, getting those intrepid juices flowing at an early age; Professor Sprout probably owed him the equivalent of a life debt by now.  
   
He blinked at the shaggy-haired runt in front of him. “You’re rather rude for a Hufflepuff. I’m quite sure I said ‘Hello.’”  
   
“Umm… Hi?” The sound was barely a whisper. Jensen sighed; that brazen badger spirit was weak in this one.  
   
“Don’t you know that the second floor corridor on the right hand side is off limits to first years this year?” he asked superciliously.  
   
“How come?” came the quick question, voice tremulous and hazel eyes luminously reflective of the candlelit corridor. Those eyes, now sparkling with curiosity, blinked up at him past a haphazard fringe, like those of a little sheepdog puppy, until the boy remembered his predicament. No telling how long he’d been wandering the hallways before plopping down on the cold stone floors and Jensen had, quite literally, stumbled across him. “The stairs… They changed, and I…I…went up instead of down and…and…” Oh, stammering was never a good thing, and neither was that wobbly-lipped, teary-eyed look on the boy’s face. Jensen braced himself and, sure enough, the brat dissolved into hiccupping sobs and threw himself at Jensen, small arms winding around Jensen’s waist like a clinging vine. “I...I don’t…don’t know…how to…get back.”  
   
Jensen rolled his eyes. Didn’t they have prefects for this sort of search and rescue missions? He patted the boy’s shoulder exactly twice. “There, there,” he drawled insincerely, a longsuffering sigh blowing past his lips. “I suppose I’ll have to show you.” He pulled himself to the full height of all his thirteen years and unwrapped the wee Hufflepuff from about his person, taking care to avoid touching those grubby little hands. “Follow me.”  
   
The brat sniffed loudly and wiped his tears and snot off on the sleeve of his jumper. Then he put his hand into Jensen’s, warm and small and sticky and quite disgusting – Jensen was going to have to _Scourgify_ his entire body before retiring for the night – and, holding on tight, looked trustingly up at him. “Thank you.”  
   
“Don’t mention it.” Jensen stared into the boy’s adoring gaze and reiterated. “No, really. Never mention this to anyone. Ever.”  
   
“Okay,” the boy obligingly agreed while Jensen hoped this wouldn’t be all over the school in the morning; he’d never live it down. “What’s your name?”  
   
“None of your business, brat.”  
   
“M’not a brat,” the boy bristled. “I’m Jared. Jared Tristan Padalecki.”  
   
“What a mouthful,” Jensen muttered disdainfully.  
   
That brought the boy up short. “Are you going to be mean to me, too?”  
   
Merlin, that got to Jensen quicker than anything else could’ve. “Who’s being mean to you?”  
   
“Stupid Slytherin boys in my Potions class,” the brat – Jared, he supposed – mumbled, snivelling. “’Cause I’m not like the rest of them.”  
   
“You look exactly like the rest of the first years to me.”  
   
“I am. I mean…sort of. Mostly. I’m not… I don’t have…any family. They make fun of my name. All the time.” Small shoulders shrugged with the helpless confession, as if he’d been waiting for just this opportunity to get it all off his little chest. “Dunno why, really. My dad was Polish, s’not my fault. Not anyone’s fault.”  
   
“Was?”  
   
Another sniff, a little one, but one that sounded infinitely more lonely and miserable than all the others Jensen had heard thus far in their short acquaintance. “He’s dead. They’re both dead, my mum and dad.”  
   
“Oh. Sorry,” Jensen said, and then found himself completely speechless for the first time since he’d learned how to talk. It was not an experience he ever wanted to repeat.  
   
He shook his head and resumed his clipped pace to the stairwell – where the stairs, at least, were behaving – and dragged Jared along in his wake, not bothering to shorten his stride and taking the tiniest smidgen of perverse delight in the fact that Jared’s stubby little legs were practically tripping over themselves as he strove to keep up, huffing and puffing before Jensen finally took pity on him and slowed as they approached the steps; it wouldn’t help him any if he got one of Sprout’s little cubs to take a tumble down the treacherous staircase.  
   
A loud sniffle had him looking down and sighing again as he drew them to a standstill near a portrait of a little girl picking wildflowers in a meadow. She waved at them and Jared’s chubby little fingers waved back. Jensen feigned patience. “Listen, Jared – don’t let those silly Slytherins get to you. They’re a bunch of ruddy idiots, all right? And believe me, that’s all they need to see – one sign of weakness – and they won’t let up for the next seven years. Buck up and bash on. Be a man. Well, as much of a man as you can be, anyway.”  
   
“’Kay,” Jared replied forlornly. Then he meekly looked up at Jensen as if Jensen held the solutions to all his problems and that was just…wrong. No. Absolutely not. Jensen had better things to do with his time than babysit little Hufflepuffs. “How’m I s’posed to do that?”  
   
“I don’t know! Just ignore them or run the other way when you see them coming!” Jensen exclaimed, losing the tiny bit of patience he possessed as the girl in the painting clucked at him in disapproval. He shot her a scathing glare that had her turning her back on him in a flourish of her bulbous skirts. He tugged on Jared’s hand and got them moving again. “Just wing it.”  
   
“I dunno how to wing it.” Jared’s chubby face scrunched up in thought as they hit the first floor landing. “Does that mean I should hex them with feathers? What’s the spell for that?”  
   
“Merlin’s Beard,” Jensen muttered, barely suppressing the urge to bang his head against a wall. He had half a mind to abandon the little idiot right then and there but a group of Slytherins picked that very moment to walk past them and when Jared did his level best to burrow _inside_ Jensen’s robes, Jensen yanked on his little arm until they found the stairs leading down to the kitchens. When they were relatively sheltered from inquisitive eyes and ears in the safety of the basement, he pulled Jared into the alcove underneath the stairway. “Right. Why are they really picking on you? There’s something you’re not telling me. Is it because you’re really annoying and pathetic?”  
   
Jared frowned mightily. “I am not!”  
   
“You are, too. You have been from the moment I met you.”  
   
“You met me ten minutes ago!”  
   
“What’s your point?”  
   
“They…they don’t like me because…because…” Jensen waited but nothing else was forthcoming; instead, Jared stared at the polished little black boots he wore with great fascination and his next words were so quiet that Jensen had to lean in closer to hear them. “They pick on me because they think I’m a… _Mudblood_.”  
   
Jensen reared back in anger. “Don’t ever say that word again!” he spat, perhaps with a trifle too much vehemence, for Jared’s eyes filled with tears and that lip of his wobbled precariously and, before Jensen could say another word, the brat was bawling. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Don’t cry, you little idiot.” Jared didn’t listen, but he did muffle his sobs. In Jensen’s robes. Merlin, but someone owed him major house points for this act of do-goodery he was about to…er…do. “You are a such a girl. Stop crying and pull yourself together, brat!”  
   
“I’m not a brat!”  
   
“How can you be so mouthy to me – despite the silly, girly tears – and not stand up for yourself in Potions class?”  
   
“Professor Snape’s scary.”  
   
“Yes, and the sun rises in the east. Nothing you can do about either of those things.” Jensen whipped out his handkerchief and waved it in front of the boy’s slobbery face. “Snape may be a scary old bat, but he’s fair in matters such as this. Besides which, I don’t understand why on earth you haven’t mentioned this to Sprout!”  
   
“M’not a tattletale!”  
   
“This isn’t tattling,” Jensen growled, “this is much worse! No one should ever be bullied because of their bloodlines!”  
   
“Are you angry with me?”  
   
“No! Why would I be angry with you?”  
   
“You look like you’re angry with me.”  
   
“Well, I think we’ve already established that you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, so suffice it to say – you’re mistaken.” Jensen drew in a calming breath. “I’m angry at _them_. Look – at least have a word with your prefect, yeah? Or the Head Girl – Arabella Birch. She’s in your House and she’s nice.”  
   
“Okay.” Jared blinked up at him, ridiculously long lashes fanning his cheeks. “Wait – does that mean you’re not a Hufflepuff?”  
   
Jensen snorted. “Not bloody likely.” He adjusted his robes until the crest above his heart was visible.  
   
“Ravenclaw,” Jared whispered in awe. “You must be really smart.”  
   
“I am.”  
   
“Wow.”  
   
“Indeed.”  
   
Jared looked up at him with a hopeful gaze. “Can I come find you if they pick on me again?”  
   
“No.”  
   
“Please?” Merlin, but the brat was whiny.  
   
“No! Fight your own battles!” Jared sniffed and Jensen huffed and realized for the first time that maybe Slytherin House hadn’t cornered the market on manipulative little brats. “Fine. You can come find me in the Great Hall. Or ask a house elf to come find me. Or send me an owl.”  
   
“Won’t that take too long?”  
   
“You can tell it to fly faster,” Jensen quipped, “see if it helps. They’ll probably peck your beady little eyes out.”  
   
“You’re not being very nice to me.”  
   
“I’m not very nice, full stop.”  
   
“But you still helped me.”  
   
“Wouldn’t you rescue a lost _ickle_ puppy?”  
   
“Er… Yes?”  
   
“Well, there you go then.”  
   
“Why does nobody like me?” Jared bemoaned.  
   
“Merlin,” Jensen muttered in the wake of Jared’s sigh, wanting nothing more than to strangle the little blighter for tugging on Jensen’s heretofore non-existent heartstrings. “If it makes you feel better, I generally don’t like very many people.”  
   
“But why doesn’t anybody like _me_? I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”  
   
“Give me a day, I’ll give you a parchment with a long list of reasons.”  
   
The most wretched, pitiable expression on the planet graced Jared’s cherubic face. “M’sorry to be such a bother.”  
   
Jensen nodded regally and he almost wished he could unwind enough to give the tyke a hug; he seemed in such sore need of one. But, no. Ackleses did not do public displays of decency and human kindness; it went against Jensen’s very bearing. “Apology accepted,” he drawled instead.  
   
“Can I go now?”  
   
“Were you waiting for my permission all this while? I’d’ve given it a lot sooner if I’d known.”  
   
“I’ll go then…” The brat seemed oddly reluctant to follow through on his words, so Jensen made the first move, giving him a bit of a shove in the right direction, and Jared went. “Thank you for helping me find my way back. And for talking to me. This is the longest conversation I’ve had since coming here.”  
   
Jensen ruthlessly crushed the urge to go find a spell to somehow magically bind the two of them together just so Jared would never have to be alone again. Then he scowled at his own stupid sentimentality. “Yes, fine. Go on!” Jared kept going, occasionally glancing back at Jensen over his shoulder and moving like treacle would if you poured it on snow, which is to say, not really moving at all, his soft, scuffling steps echoing through the hallway that led to the kitchens and, beyond them somewhere, to the Badger Den also known as the Hufflepuff Common Room. “Sometime this term, Jared!”  
   
“Won’t you walk with me? Just a little further? Please?”  
   
Jensen’s revered Ravenclaw reticence was no match for Jared’s ridiculous, floppy hair-encumbered, puppy-eyed look of woe. “I hate you. Just so we’re clear.”  
   
“Okay.” Jared’s quiet acceptance of the fact had Jensen reaching out for one of those grubby hands he’d spent the past half hour trying to avoid and giving it a reassuring little squeeze. Nobody would ever know and Jensen (as well as Jared, if he knew what was good for him) would never tell.  
   
“I’m not going past the kitchens, though,” Jensen told him sharply. “The Hufflepuff Den has some sort of repelling spell on it and I’m in no mood to find out exactly what it is.”  
   
Jared nodded and they walked the rest of the way in silence, his little body bumping into Jensen with every other step he took because he was walking so close. When they got as far as Jensen would go, Jared turned those absurdly adorable eyes on him again, effectively trapping Jensen in place with just a look.  
   
It made Jensen all sorts of defensive. “What?”  
   
“Can you please tell me your name?”  
   
“Jensen. Jensen Ackles.”  
   
“Jensen,” Jared repeated, like he was trying out the sound of it on his tongue. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”  
   
Jensen’s response was snappy. “No!”  
   
“Acquaintances, then?”  
   
“In your dreams, maybe.”  
   
“Oh.”  
   
“You…you need to make friends your own age. Besides, I can’t be seen with a bratty first year, it would tarnish my image.”  
   
“You’re such a prat!”  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“It’s not like I asked you to _like_ me,” Jared muttered just as Jensen was about to turn away. “Can’t you just…maybe if no one else was around… Could I come talk to you then? No one talks to me.”  
   
“ _No_ one talks to you?” Jensen blinked and tried to control his suddenly ragged breathing; Filch must not’ve cleaned down here, it was so bloody stuffy. “Not even your fellow badger cubs?”  
   
The toe of Jared’s boot scuffed against the stone floor. “Not really.”  
   
“Have _you_ tried talking to _them?_ ” Jared looked up at him as if the thought had never occurred to him before. Jensen huffed, wondering how long he’d have to deal with all these… _feelings_ : compassion, goodwill...pity.  “Someone needs to take the first step. All of you are equally shy and scared, so you be the bigger little man and make the first move. Suggest studying together. Or walk to class together and _talk_ to each other in the hallways instead of moving as one silent school of very terrified little fish.” Jared gaped at him, mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to get actual words out; it was a very fitting fishy expression. “And you have Herbology with the Gryffindors, right? Talk to them. They’re usually a friendly lot. My best mate’s in that House.”  
   
“Really?”  
   
“Yes, really. So, you think you can do all that? If you promise to try, I’ll let you nod at me when I see you in the halls. Behave, and I might even let you wave.”  
   
“I’ll try. I promise!”  
   
“Well, thank Merlin for small mercies,” Jensen intoned in mock condescension. “Can I go now, princess? May I take your leave?”  
   
Jared nodded, looking a little delighted, and the shy, dimpled smile Jensen’s words had drawn forth was completely worth all the trouble Jensen had gone through since meeting the boy.  
   
You know, if Jensen was the type of person who valued that sort of thing.

 

                                                                                                

 

It was a house elf that Jared eventually sent to Jensen for help.  
   
Jensen had been finishing his homework with Bill Weasley in the library when the house elf’s sudden appearance at his side startled him so much, he’d fallen off his chair and onto his arse. The elf – Fern – had been beside herself as she told him that Jared was being bullied in one of the boys’ bathrooms on the third floor; Jensen didn’t even have the time to work up a righteous indignation before she was grabbing his hand, pulling him out of the library and into a nearby concealed panel that slid open at the touch of her gnarled finger.  
   
Jensen had no recollection of anything but walking through darkness and into the light, too quick for the trip to have been anything but magical, but that was neither here nor there; he had a Hufflepuff to save.  
   
He couldn’t quite recall being angrier than he’d been in that second that he’d first seen Jared, his nose broken and bloodied, a nasty cut above his eyebrow, and a mass of red scratches on his hands from where they’d been ground into the grouted floor.  
   
The Head Boy had had to physically pull him off those miserable Slytherin bastards before Jensen would stop pummelling on them. Five stocky idiots – a couple of them from _Jensen’s_ year, no less – on one scrawny little kid? It wasn’t to be borne.  
   
Never had detention and the loss of house points to Ravenclaw ever felt so good.  
   
   
Madam Pomfrey’d had his little badger cub looking as good as new the next time Jensen saw Jared in the Great Hall. He’d acknowledged Jared’s enthusiastic wave with a cursory, somewhat cold nod in return and tried to ignore the pang he’d felt at Jared’s resultant downtrodden expression. It cleared up in a few minutes, though, when Jared was joined at his study table by Charlie Weasley and the two started chattering excitedly as they pulled out their parchments and quills: the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Jensen hoped.  
   
He looked across his own study table, catching the eyes of his best friend, Bill – Charlie’s big brother – and smirking.  
   
“Thanks for having a word with Charlie,” he said simply, acknowledging that his short, strained conversation with Bill was worth any forthcoming ridicule from his friend if it’d put that happy, dimpled grin on Jared’s face, but Bill just smiled like a sphinx.  
   
“You’re an odd egg, Ackles.”  
   
“It’s been said.”  
   
And just like that – and truly, this was why he and Bill got on so famously – the topic of conversation switched to Quidditch and Jensen forgot all about Jared.  
   
   
If only it was as easy to forget now as it had been then.

                                                                                                

 

Sometimes, when Jensen saw Jared and Charlie together through the years, practically joined at the hip, sharing everything from sweets to secrets, he’d get a little jealous. In the very next second, though, he’d remember exactly who he was and the envy he felt would be banished from his mind and heart. Until the next time. Until he’d needed reminding again. Like when, at the end of the year, Jared had shyly stumbled up to him, right there on the Hogwarts platform as the students piled into the waiting train, and stuck out his undoubtedly still grubby little hand. Jensen had stared at it for a good long while before shaking it, making the disappointed frown on Jared’s face morph into a smile so radiant it rivalled the sun; Jensen hadn’t been able to help the smile he’d given Jared in return. And he certainly hadn’t been able to resist returning the hug he’d been given a second later; it’d been so squishy and…nice.  
   
So yes, sometimes he’d needed a little reminder: A friendship with Bill Weasley was acceptable, if not exactly encouraged; one with Jared Padalecki would’ve been inconceivable and disastrous.  
  

                                                                                                

 

It was common knowledge, at least if you were of magical descent, that if you were to cut a member of the Ackles family, they would probably bleed Ravenclaw blue.  
   
It was a proud Ackles tradition being sorted into the venerable House of Ravenclaw, one rooted in an ancient wisdom, one that was woven into every branch of their family tree and every aspect of their lives and, to this day, no child borne of an Ackles bond had ever marred that perfect record; it was, after all, their one true testament to their pristine, pure-blooded heritage.  
   
Still, Jensen was fairly certain that he couldn’t have been the first member of his family to tamp down a tiny frisson of fear and uncertainty as Professor McGonagall had called out his name first, on that first night at Hogwarts; the first of many firsts. It had taken him only a second to snap out of it: Mind over matter, always; it was their family motto.  
   
He and his siblings and every one of their predecessors had all been carefully prepared for this moment from the cradle; even their baby bibs were embossed with the Ravenclaw crest (the tiny animated raven within it had been known to caw many a crotchety Ackles baby to calm) and when they passed on, that crest would be etched onto their gravestones.  And since you were never too young nor too old to get an education, the garnering of knowledge also began in the crib and it would end with their last breath, because an Ackles never mucks about with tradition. So, every lesson with his tutors, every spell and charm already committed to memory even if he wasn’t old enough to own a wand yet, let alone actually use one, and every nuance of his manner and mien had been carefully chiselled to represent the regal reserve and incomparable wisdom and wit of his future House.  
   
When he’d approached the Sorting Hat, then, it was boldly, with his head high and his back ramrod straight, his eleven-year-old body affecting the perfect poise and posture befitting his pedigree, blue blood thundering through his veins.  
   
The Hat had barely touched the tips of his sandy hair before declaring its decision to all and sundry in the Great Hall and the Ravenclaw table had erupted in cheers to welcome him into their fold. Even now, he remembered exactly how ecstatic and smug he’d been, taking pride of place right next to his elder brother, Joshua, Ravenclaw’s Fifth Year Prefect; the Hat had taken a good minute to sort Joshua the year before when he’d transferred in from the Sydney School of Spellcraft; Jensen’s sorting, on the other hand, had become the new Ackles’ record.  
   
His other very clear memory from that first day at Hogwarts was how the Grey Lady had nodded imperiously in his direction. He’d acknowledged her with a bow and an exaggerated flourish of his hand – he’d always been prone to a little melodrama, even then – it had made her smirk and Jensen recalled that being the first time he’d ever felt a burst of warm affection for someone of the female persuasion. Years later, he still thought the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw was one of the loveliest ladies he’d ever laid eyes on; it was rather unfortunate that she’d lacked a pulse.  
   
His first two years of school had flown by in a blur of studies and pranks and being too smart to actually get into enough trouble for Flitwick to owl his parents in complaint. He did lose Ravenclaw House a few points, though, but that was only because Snape hated everyone, and Merlin help you if you breathed wrong on a day the moody Potions Master’d been in a snit. Sometimes he tried very hard to remember something more...well, memorable…from those years but, apart from befriending Bill, he’d always come up empty.  
   
On the eve of his third year at Hogwarts, his sister Mackenzie joined the Ravenclaw table, beaming and blushing and sticking to Jensen’s side like a limpet; he hadn’t really minded, instead slinging his arm over her shoulders and pulling her close, sharing secrets about the school that only Ravenclaws would ever know.  
   
Of Jared Padalecki on that night, he had absolutely no recollection – not of ever hearing the name, nor of ever catching a glimpse of the boy himself.  
   
Later on in life, he regretted not paying closer attention, but it hardly mattered; what else were Pensieves for, after all?

 

                                                                                                  

   
  


Jensen shot up a lofty ten centimetres over the summer between his third and fourth year, and when he got back to school, it was to find that Jared had added a few inches too.  
   
“You’re getting chubbier by the day, Hufflepuff.”  
   
“Jensen! Hiya!”  
   
“I would stay away from… What is that?”  
   
“Roly-poly pudding. S’delicious.”  
   
“And you’re disgusting.” Jensen snorted when Jared stuffed the remaining bits of jam and cake into his mouth, mumbling excitedly and leaving a streak of cream and jam across his bottom lip. Jensen pressed a hand over Jared’s still-moving mouth, just to avoid being sprayed by bits of flying cake. “You have the manners of a demented Crup.”  
   
To Jensen’s everlasting gratitude, Jared swallowed before speaking, and simply stared as Jensen pulled his hand away and absently licked his palm free of jammy goodness. “What’s a Crup?”  
   
“It’s a magically-engineered dog,” Jensen imparted, giving his hand one last lick and regretting not having had a helping of pudding himself. “It looks a bit like a Jack Russell terrier, except for the fact that it has a forked tail. It’s still yippy and annoying, though, and it eats all sorts of junk, hence the comparison.”  
   
“So you’re going to be mean to me this year as well?”  
   
“Why ruin such a fun sport?” Jensen shrugged and tried not to smirk at the affronted – and slightly adoring, Merlin have mercy – look on Jared’s face. “Speaking of sport, you should think of taking one up. This,” he poked Jared in his rounded tummy, “can’t be healthy, brat.”  
   
Jared batted his hand away. “Yeah. Thanks for that. I’m a growing boy.”  
   
“You’re meant to grow vertically, not horizontally.”  
   
“What’s it to you?”  
   
Jensen pointedly ignored that question, one of the few he had no answers to. “Quidditch. You should try out. You won’t make the Hufflepuff team, but it’s always fun to try out anyway.”  
   
“I saw you play last year. Reserve Beater. You were fantastic in that match against Slytherin! You were fearless! I’m rubbish on a broom.”  
   
“Says who?”  
   
“Madam Hooch.”  
   
“Well, she would know, but are you going to let her have the last word? Charlie’s not too bad on a broom, have him teach you.”  
   
“How do you know how well Charlie flies?”  
   
“We played a lot of Quidditch over the summer. I spent a couple of weeks at the Weasleys’.”  
   
“Oh.” Jared looked so pitiable and despondent at that, that Jensen had no control over his mouth. “I could give you a few pointers, I s’pose.”  
   
“Would you?” Jared squeaked happily, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
   
“Yeah, Bill and I…”  
   
“Oh. Umm… That’s okay, no worries. I have to go.”  
   
“What? Wait! Don’t you want to learn to fly?”  
   
“I’m really rubbish at flying. S’embarrassing.” Jared huffed and blew his shaggy fringe off his forehead as he stared down at his feet in morose contemplation. Jensen tried to stave off the warm wave of affection he felt at that; it reminded him of the night they’d first met. “It’s because of my great-great-great…er…I’m not quite sure how many ‘greats’ ago he was – uncle.”  
   
Jensen was flummoxed. “What the bloody hell does your great-whatever uncle have to do with the fact that you can’t fly?”  
   
“He was Josef Wronski.”  
   
“Josef Wronski?” Jensen paused for a beat before his jaw metaphorically hit the floor with a dull thud. “The Polish Quidditch legend? _The_ Josef Wronski? From the Grodzisk Goblins? The one who invented the Wronski Feint?” Jared nodded, looking rather impressed at Jensen’s knowledge. “Fuck me.”  
   
“Jensen!”  
   
“Sorry. Actually, no! I’m not sorry! You’re the one who should be sorry!” Jensen gesticulated madly, much to Jared’s delight, trying and failing to get his point across. “You can’t actually be related to Josef Wronski and not know how to fly! That’s beyond pathetic!” The amusement on Jared’s face vanished in a trice, leaving anguish in its wake as Jared blinked back tears, the big, pudgy baby. Jensen groaned and punched him in the arm, ignoring Jared’s indignant yelp. “I won’t stand for it. This is a travesty!”  
   
“No need to rub it in.”  
   
“Fine. All right. No Bill. No Charlie. Just you and me and our brooms. Tell me you at least have a broom?”  
   
“Yeah. My dad’s old Nimbus.”  
   
“Good. I feel like I owe it to your uncle for being such a fantastic player. You can’t possibly besmirch his memory by not learning to handle yourself on a broomstick!” Jared looked altogether too pleased with himself at that and Jensen wondered if he’d ever stop letting Jared walk all over him like a welcome mat. He walloped the back of Jared’s head in payback. “Brat.”  
   
“Just you and me, huh?”  
   
“Yes. It’s what you’ve always wanted,” Jensen deadpanned. “Happy now?” The sunny smile on Jared’s face spoke volumes and Jensen turned and stalked away before he was blinded. It didn’t stop him from getting one last jibe in over his shoulder, though. “And stay away from all those sweets, or I’m going to start calling you Roly-Poly Padalecki!”

 

                                                                                                   

 

Five months, four bad falls, three spectacular crashes, two broken bones and one epic detention later, Jared had been flying like a bird, more at home on a broom than he’d ever been on his own two feet and he’d had Jensen to thank for it all. It felt unreasonably good to have Jared indebted to him and Jensen tried not to gloat at every opportunity Jared presented him with; he failed, of course, and he savoured that failure with relish because it was well worth it to see that pinched, pissy look Jared got every single time Jensen reminded him of it, like a grin was warring with a grimace for dominance on Jared’s stupid face – it was pretty much a fifty-fifty split, and Jensen enjoyed both outcomes and the resultant bitching or blathering equally.  
   
He felt an inordinate sense of pride and accomplishment when Jared made the Hufflepuff team as their Seeker in his third year at Hogwarts, even if Jared never caught a single snitch in his entire time with the team.

 

  
                                                                                                    

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

                                          

 

Jensen’s fifth year (Jared’s third) was mostly spent studying for his OWLs, ignoring Jared, and bossing his fellow students about; he was exceptionally good at all of the above.  
   
Except for all those times – and there’d been too many to keep track – when Jared refused to be ignored. Or bossed about.

 

                                                                                                

 

“I don’t understand how a prat like you makes Prefect.”  
   
“I’m an Ackles. It’s a given.”  
   
“What’s that like?”  
   
“Being a Prefect? Marvellous. Just for the use of the bathrooms alone.”  
   
“No. Being a part of such a big, well-known family. Everyone’s expectations riding upon your shoulders.”  
   
“Everyone’s expectations are riding upon Joshua’s shoulders. My older brother. He left the year before you joined.”  
   
“That’s not what I heard.”  
   
“Pray tell, Jared. What have you heard?”  
   
“That you belong to an old and very powerful family. That you have a heritage you’re honour-bound to. How’re you supposed to realize your dreams of playing professional Quidditch when you have to live up to that?”  
   
“I should’ve never told you that.”  
   
“I would never tell another soul, you know. You can trust me.”  
   
“I don’t trust anyone.”  
   
“Well, if you ever needed to trust someone, I’ll be here.”  
   
“Did you age one or ten years over the summer?”  
   
“Just the one.”  
   
“At least you grew the right way this time.”  
   
“Mmm-hmm. Perhaps I’ll even outgrow you some day.”  
   
“Not bloody likely.”  
   
“Care to make a wager?”  
   
“Wouldn’t want to suck you dry. Merlin, that sounded dirty. Ignore that.”  
   
“Are you… _blushing?_ ”  
   
“No!”  
   
“You are!”  
   
“You’re imagining things! It’s cold out here. It’s Scotland, for fuck’s sake!”  
   
“Your cheeks’ve gone all rosy. Like a girl’s!”  
   
“Sod off!”  
   
“Sets off those sparkly green eyes of yours, Ackles!”  
   
“That’s it. I’m gonna knock your scrawny arse off that broom!”  
   
“Only if you catch me first!”

                                                                                                

 

Suffice it to say that Jensen also spent a ridiculous amount of time – between Quidditch practice, where he’d finally become one of the two regular Ravenclaw Beaters, and chasing after Jared – on a broom, whizzing through rain and sleet and snow and finally sunshine as the term ended and he and Jared parted ways one more time.  
   
When Joshua returned home from the highly revered Connemara University of Conjury in Ireland – the Ackleses’ alma mater – later that summer, his face serious and his manner sombre, it was to take up an internship as a Junior Barrister at the Ministry of Magic; he’d soon work his way up and into the Wizengamot, like every male member of the Ackles clan before him, and Merlin, how mundane was that? It was only then that Jared’s words came back to haunt Jensen: Was he, too, doomed to what was essentially a fancy desk job?  
   
Even as he passed his OWLs and looked forward to mastering Charms at Connemara, he’d wondered.  
   
For the next two years at Hogwarts, he’d wondered (and worried) but in the end, he hadn’t been brave enough to battle the blood-lineage he belonged to.

 

                                                                               

 

Jensen’s sixth year (Jared’s fourth) did not begin well.  
   
He’d always heard the saying that when one teeters on the brink of death, one’s entire life flashes before one’s eyes; he’d just never expected to experience flicker-fast images of him and Jared, clicking away in his head – much like one of Snape’s lectures – flashing past his mind’s eye as he’d watched, horror-stricken, as _Jared_ fell from his broom in the midst of a Quidditch match, knocked off by a Bludger to the head, one that _Jensen_ had batted away to safeguard a Ravenclaw Chaser.  
   
Jensen had never flown so far so fast in his life.  
   
Dodging his bewildered teammates, the panicked Hufflepuffs, and a perplexed Professor Snape – who’d been refereeing the match but hadn’t seen the hit (and in his defence, the thunderstorm they were playing in was a wee bit distracting) – Jensen whizzed by at the speed of sound, he was certain, his broom cutting through the sheets of rain like a sword, his heart in his throat as he vaulted off his broom mid-air a few feet away from Jared,  whispering an incantation he wasn’t supposed to know yet as he reached out with his wand and cast a willowy net beneath Jared, one that caught him – and Jensen, who’d gotten to Jared first and had him cradled in his arms  – in its webbing a mere ten feet from the grassy ground, both of them sodden, but safe and sound.  
   
He supported Jared’s head in his hands with a gentleness even he hadn’t known he’d possessed, but Jared was out cold, hardly breathing, and before Jensen knew it, Snape was at his side and levitating Jared onto a stretcher. He was transported into the castle as Jensen jogged alongside with both their brooms in his hand (courtesy of a quick _Accio_ ), people talking all around him as Sprout appeared to take over so Snape could return to the game.  
   
Jensen stayed by Jared’s side – the Ravenclaw captain hadn’t been too pleased to continue the game one Beater short, but Hufflepuff was lacking its Seeker, so Jensen didn’t feel too bad – and he didn’t leave until Madam Pomfrey kicked him out when it was time for bed.  
   
He returned after curfew, though, because Jared had been so unnaturally still when he’d left that Jensen hadn’t quite believed it when the nurse claimed that he’d merely been sleeping off his injury; Jensen wanted to find out for himself and Fern had been eager to help as she’d been a bit worried as well. The house elf snuck him past the slumbering nurse to Jared’s bedside and Jensen had been grateful, even more so when she stroked a bony finger down Jared’s temple, causing Jared’s eyes to groggily blink open. He smiled at her; then he saw Jensen.  
   
“You hit me, you foul git,” Jared rasped feebly, no heat in his words. Jensen sat down on his bed and gave Jared’s foot a little squeeze.  
   
“Sorry,” he said gruffly, working the words past the lump in his throat one by one. “Serves you right for paying more attention to the opposing Beater than to finding the snitch.”  
   
“Couldn’t help it. You’ve got brilliant broom-handling techniques.”  
   
“You were like a besotted Mooncalf out there.”  
   
Jared chuckled softly. “It was our first game together. Can’t blame me if I got a bit distracted.”  
   
“You can’t play a game like Quidditch distracted, Jared. People have been _killed_ playing Quidditch!”   
   
“You’re being overly dramatic.”  
   
“And you’re being an arse.” Jensen huffed angrily. “You’re also a crap Seeker!”  
   
“Can we save the insults for when I’m not too incapacitated to make a witty comeback?”  
   
“You’re a Hufflepuff. You’re mentally incapable of making witty comebacks.” Jared proved him right by sticking his tongue out at him and Jensen squeezed his foot again. “Are you feeling all right? How’s your head?”  
   
“Feels like I got hit by a Bludger,” Jared quipped, a lopsided smile playing about his face so only one dimple poked into his not-so-chubby-anymore cheek.  
   
“Fuck, Jared…I’m so sorry.” Jensen’s eyes suddenly prickled with the threat of tears; the Infirmary likely had a bit of dust floating around; someone should have a word with Filch – the man was seriously slacking off on his caretaking duties.  
   
Jared reached out and tugged at Jensen’s robes, not letting up until they were pressed almost nose to nose. “S’not your fault. No need to apologize.”  
   
“I’m still sorry.”  
   
“ _I’m_ still amazed that I didn’t break any bones,” Jared muttered. “Do you remember that foul bone-mending potion Snape concocted for us last year? Yuck. Thought Madam Pomfrey would need to break out the Skele-Gro this time, but she said someone swooped in and saved my life.” Warm, happy hazel eyes bored into Jensen’s. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”  
   
Jensen shook his head and looked away. “Nope.”  
   
“Right.” Jared drew the word out and gave it a few extra syllables. “Madam Pomfrey said…”  
   
“Madam Pomfrey says a lot of things; she’s a nosey parker, doesn’t make any of them true,” Jensen interrupted hastily, removing Jared’s hand from where it was fisted in his robes. “And you must be knackered, you should really rest, and I need to get back before someone realizes I’m gone and they dock me house points, or give me detention again, because you are not worth spending hours in Filch’s esteemed company. Or maybe it’s Hagrid this week. I dunno who’s worse. Although with my luck, I’ll probably get Snape. Or good heavens, maybe Trelawney. I’d better go… Come along, Fern.”  
   
“You’re blushing again.”  
   
“It’s the light in here, casts funny-coloured shadows. And you took a Bludger to the head, what would you know? You could be seeing spots in front of your eyes; you should really mention that to Madam Pomfrey in the morning.”  
   
Both dimples came out in Jared’s smile this time. “Will you come see me tomorrow?”  
   
“No. I’m very busy and I have a billion better things to do. It’s a Hogsmeade day, you know.”  
   
“Oh.” Jensen got hit with a massive dose of that puppy-eyed look Jared always used to get under his skin. “Okay.”  
   
“I’ll be back before lunch.” Jensen frowned, muttering under his breath. “Manipulative little shit. See if I bring you back any treats from Honeydukes.”  
   
Jared grinned and then yawned as Jensen stood, Jared’s hand trailing along the length of Jensen’s robes as he moved away from his bedside. “Thanks, Jensen. For, you know, everything.”  
   
“You’re not welcome. Pay closer attention next time. I’m not your personal safety net.”  
   
“I will, I promise. Good night.”  
   
“Good riddance.”  
   
“My hero.”  
   
Jensen followed Fern back to the secret passageway that’d led him to Jared’s side without responding; there really was no comeback for that, witty or otherwise.

 

                                                                                

 

For all his vaunted intelligence, sometimes Jensen could be epically dim-witted.  
   
Case in point: falling in love with Jared, and taking almost a decade to even admit to it. If he was being honest with himself, he’d have owned up to it a lot sooner, but the truth and Jensen have always been strange bedfellows.  
   
   
“This bath is bloody brilliant, Jensen!” Jared chortled gleefully, scooping up multi-coloured bubbles in his hands and blowing them into Jensen’s face as they lounged in the pool in the Ravenclaw Prefect’s Bathroom. “Are you certain you won’t get into trouble for bringing me here?”  
   
“As long as you keep your gob shut about it…”  
   
“I won’t tell a soul,” Jared promised breathlessly, his smile bright as he happily played – there was no other word for it, really – in the bath like the child he’d been a few years ago, the child he still was some days, lost and lonely. Jensen shook his head to clear it of stupid thoughts and dunked Jared under the water, holding him there until the brat squirmed like an eel and tickled Jensen in the ribs. He sputtered to the surface when Jensen let go, gasping and glaring daggers. “I hate you so much sometimes.”  
   
Jensen smirked. “I can live with that.” Of course, then the little idiot’s face went and crumpled, and he hauled himself out of the pool, his shorts falling almost midway down his still-chubby bum as he stomped away. Jensen sighed, grabbed a couple of towels and followed, jogging the last few steps to catch up. “Oi, c’mon, brat! You’re the one who said you hated me.”  
   
“But I never _mean_ it!” Jared wailed, tears glistening in his eyes.  
   
Jensen said nothing, instead looping a towel around Jared’s scrawny neck and reeling him in, drying the mop that passed for his hair as Jared petulantly let him, their bodies close together, heat and moisture, until Jared closed the distance and hugged him, his face in Jensen’s chest as hot tears streaked down Jensen’s skin. Jensen’s hands gentled in their motions, but he didn’t stop towelling Jared’s head dry.  
   
“What’s the matter?” he asked, tired of this by now; it’d been a week and allowing Jared the luxury of a bubble bath had been a last ditch attempt on Jensen’s part to return that sunny smile to his face. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve been moping more than usual lately?”  
   
Jared sniffed and clung a little tighter. “It was Mother’s Day last Monday.” The towel slipped – or so Jensen told himself – because suddenly his fingers were brushing through the wet strands of Jared’s hair. “Professor Sprout always has First Years make things to send home to their mums – and she always asks the older ones to help. I…I think she forgot, and she asked me, and I didn’t want to seem like a whiny baby, so I helped but…” Jensen stroked the baby soft skin of Jared’s neck; he hoped his touch was soothing enough, for he had no words just then. “How can you miss someone you haven’t even met?” Big hazel eyes blinked up at him helplessly. “Never mind the sort of person she was, I don’t even know what she looked like! I’ve never even seen a picture! And my dad – I can’t even remember him anymore!”  
   
Jensen’s jaw ached from the force of gritting his teeth together, but he couldn’t help himself anymore; that stupid, lost look on Jared’s face always cut through him like a knife. He grabbed Jared’s hand and none-too-gently dragged him until they both stood in front of the nearest mirror, Jensen at Jared’s back, their skin hot and touching everywhere. He squeezed Jared’s face in his hand and forced him to look at their reflections, Jared’s gaze hurt even though he said nothing about Jensen’s abrasive attitude. “Do you see this face?” Jensen asked angrily. “How can you see your reflection everyday and not know what your parents looked like?”  
   
“Ow!” Jared cried out as Jensen’s grip tightened, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.  
   
Jensen let him go, breathing in deep, the smell of Jared and fruit-scented bubble bath assailing his senses. He wrapped his arms around Jared instead, their gazes colliding in the mirror, Jared’s startled and Jensen’s heated as Jensen lowered his head, pressing their cheeks together as he spoke. “One look at this face should tell you that your mum was lovely and your dad was handsome,” he rasped, taking Jared’s hand in his, twining their fingers together and holding them against Jared’s chest, thumping once as he spoke. “One look inside your heart and you should know that Great Aunt Callie did a brilliant job raising you. And she never would’ve taken you in if she didn’t hold your dad in high regard, which means that he was a good man, an honourable man, one who loved you more than anything, because he protected you until his last breath, and a man like that would never marry someone whom he didn’t love with all his heart, which means that your mum must’ve been pretty wonderful herself.” When he paused for breath, Jared stilled as well, staring at him in the mirror, speechless. Jensen shrugged, striving for nonchalance. “Circular reasoning. Or something.”  
   
Jared, as usual, had no regard for any façade Jensen tried to hide behind; he turned and hugged him hard, burying his face in the crook of Jensen’s neck as he sobbed and stammered his thanks, his voice quiet and broken.  
   
Jensen hugged back, ruffling Jared’s wet hair. “C’mon, bath’s still warm and bubbly, and I am, yet again – because you are a giant girl – covered in snot and tears.”  
   
“Sorry,” Jared mumbled, pulling away; Jensen didn’t let him get far, and he got a wobbly smile for his trouble. “Five more minutes?”  
   
“Go on, then,” Jensen urged him on with a smack to the back of his head, smiling as Jared stuck his tongue out at him and took off at a run, launching himself into the pool with a happy whoop, his tears a thing of the past, at least for the moment, thank Merlin.  
   
Jensen turned to join him, blinking and doing a double take when he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror.  
   
For a second there, it was almost as if he hadn’t recognized the boy staring back at him.

 

                                                                                 

 

Jensen spent the summer before his last year at Hogwarts doing as many splendid things as he could think of, making the most of his freedom and enjoying what was going to be the last year of his youth with as much verve and vitality as he could muster, while still grappling for the independence that came with adulthood, and all the while testing the boundaries his father had set out for him.  
   
But even that was secondary to going back to school; this was to be his seventh and final year at Hogwarts; he wanted every moment to be memorable.  
   
He got more than he’d ever bargained for when he agreed to spend the last week of his holidays with the Weasleys, although, in hindsight, it was probably his own damn fault for going along with a plan devised by _Fred and George_. Merlin.  
   
   
“Bill, what the bloody hell are you up to, mate?”  
   
“C’mon, I guarantee you a good laugh,” Bill whispered, grinning evilly as he led Jensen up the rickety stairs to the Weasley’s attic. “Fred and George stumbled upon Charlie and his randy little mates talking about very naughty things just now. I’ll cast a _Muffliato_ around the four of us, they won’t hear a thing over the noise Mum’s making in the kitchen.”  
   
Jensen grinned. “Jared’s there as well, isn’t he?”  
   
“I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to gather such excellent fodder for future blackmail,” Bill said, chuckling at the wicked gleam in Jensen’s eyes.  
   
“Definitely. Count me in.”  
   
Jensen followed Bill into a little room next to the one Charlie, Jared and their friends were in, one where the twins (crikey, Jensen never wanted to get on their bad side, ever, the malicious little blighters) had somehow fashioned a hidden compartment into a cupboard (good grief, those two would’ve made excellent agents of espionage) and the four of them managed to squeeze in quite comfortably and eavesdrop on the conversation in the other room. He was able to discern Charlie’s and Jared’s voices but no one else’s and, like Bill had promised, the topics under discussion were very raunchy indeed – for a bunch of fifteen year-old boys, anyway – and Jensen enjoyed both the awkward stammering and stuttering (Jared and a couple of other shy ones) and the bratty bragging and ludicrous claims of personal experiences that a few other boys smugly owned up to.  
   
Charlie was quiet until the conversation turned to first kisses and, much to the amusement of his brothers, he divulged the details of his first snogging experience.  
   
“Victoria Knight,” Charlie said, sounding both proud and embarrassed.  
   
Bill snorted and the twins almost fell over laughing. “That’s our neighbour’s daughter,” Bill told him, “and she’s older than _me_ by a couple of years.” He looked quite impressed with his brother’s prowess.  
   
“Charles, you dog,” the twins drawled in unison.  
   
Jensen wasn’t paying them much mind, though, because Jared was talking now. “At least you’ve had a first kiss.”  
   
“You haven’t yet?” Charlie asked, sounding amused. “What’re you waiting for, mate? Girl of your dreams?”  
   
“Something like that.”  
   
“You got rather cozy with Sandy McCoy last Christmas,” someone accused.  
   
“Gabe!” Jared admonished. “I was just helping her out, shut up!”  
   
“Helping her out with what, eh?” Gabe chortled. “Perhaps you skipped the foreplay and snatched her snitch.”  
   
Jared snorted. “Sod off, wanker. Sandy’s a nice girl and we were talking Quidditch strategy.”  
   
“So you did go right for her snitch!” Charlie teased. His words were followed by a raucous round of good-natured laughter. “You know, Jared, you could’ve spent the hols with us. We’ve got plenty of room here.”  
   
“I didn’t want to impose.”  
   
“Mum and Dad would’ve been happy to have you. What about Christmas this year?”  
   
“Gonna be at Hogwarts again.”  
   
“Seriously?” Charlie sounded exasperated and, for a foolish moment, Jensen wondered if Jared’s answer would’ve been any different if he invited him to Ackles Manor for the holidays. Then he remembered what that would actually entail and what it would mean and he viciously pushed the thought out of his mind before it could put down roots and take a firmer hold.  
   
“I appreciate it, Charlie, but there are a few other younger kids in my House who count on me to be there for them. They don’t have anyone to go home to, either.”  
   
There was such quiet acceptance in Jared’s tone that Jensen wanted to march right into the room next door and… Well, he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do, or what he could’ve done, all he knew was that he never wanted Jared to think he was…alone. It was a stupid thing to think, and Jensen berated himself for it even as he did it, long after the boys next door decided they had better things to do. Charlie and Jared hung back, though, right at the door, so close that their voices filtered clearly through the flimsy wall between the two rooms.    
   
“You’ve really never been kissed?” they heard Charlie ask Jared.  
   
“No,” came the whisper-soft response.  
   
“What’re you waiting for?” Charlie asked curiously and Jensen felt a little frisson of fear skitter along his nerves at the hushed, expectant tone of Charlie’s voice.  
   
Jared chuckled quietly. “Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want my first kiss to be memorable. With someone who makes my heart beat fast in my chest. I want to be able to really _feel_ it, you know, from that tingle in my scalp, all the way down to my toes…”  
   
“I think there’s a spell for that, Jared.”  
   
Jensen could easily picture the shy smile on Jared’s face at that. “It’s just that I want to be in love…or at least, I want the possibility of falling in love.”  
   
“There’s _definitely_ a spell for that. Maybe a Potion or two, even.”  
   
“Shut it,” Jared warned. “You’re my best mate, you’re not allowed to poke fun.”  
   
“Yeah, yeah. That’s Ackles’ job, I know.”  
   
“He does excel at it,” Jared joked, and Jensen couldn’t help but grin, “and you know how he likes to excel at everything.”  
   
“Bloody Ravenclaw over-achievers.”  
   
“Tell me about it.” There was a slight scraping sound and Jensen imagined Jared doing that thing where he scuffed the toe of his shoe into the floor, which he only did when he was feeling especially unsure. “Do you think it’s silly of me to wait? Should I just get it out of the way?”  
   
There was a pregnant pause. “No. If it matters that much, you shouldn’t compromise. I think when it’s right, you’ll know it immediately. There won’t be a doubt in your mind.”  
   
“Have you ever felt like that?”  
   
“Yeah.”  
   
“Victoria?”  
   
“Someone else.”  
   
“Is it anyone I know? Someone at school?”  
   
“Play your cards right, mate, and I just might tell you. Until then, I’m taking it to the grave, you know…” Charlie paused, and then, raising his voice, yelled, “… _far away from prying ears!_ ” And as the words startled the shite out of his brothers and Jensen, Charlie laughed and banged hard on the barrier between them. “C’mon lads, let’s go play some Quidditch!”  
   
It was a good thing for Jensen that playing Quidditch didn’t involve being close enough to Jared to stare at his mouth, Jensen mused a lot later, because for some unfathomable reason, he couldn’t stop his mind from replaying Jared’s words over and over again in an annoying, incessant loop all day, and then all night as he’d laid in bed much, much later, Jared in the bed across from him, his breathing steady and deep and his slumber peaceful while Jensen tossed and turned and took forever to fall asleep.  
   
It certainly didn’t help that once he did, all he’d dreamt about was kissing a pair of candy-pink lips, petal-soft and dewy, in a formless yet familiar face.  
 

 

                                                                                

 

Jensen’s first first kiss had been with Danneel Harris, a fellow Ravenclaw who’d been two years ahead of him at Hogwarts. She was beautiful and smart and mouthy and he’d been a bit smitten with her from the moment they’d met. That kiss had been hot and sweet and Jensen couldn’t recall much else about the experience except for the fact that they’d never done it again. It could’ve had something to do with the fact that Joshua had liked her too, but mostly it was because Jensen had been on a mission to kiss as many girls as he could manage that year, for kissing had fast become his third favourite sport.  
   
What? Thirteen year-old boys were randy.  
   
Jensen’s second first kiss had been with Brock Kelly, a Slytherin in the same year as him. He was gorgeous and wicked and snarky and Jensen’d fallen for his bad boy persona in a heartbeat. That kiss had been hot and dirty and Jensen sometimes still got the tingles thinking about it (just for different reasons than when he’d been an overly amorous thirteen year-old); he and Brock had never repeated that experience either. It could’ve been because the messy handjob that had followed their first kiss had been far more addictive (they’d certainly repeated _that_ performance a few hasty times), but mostly it was because (after Jensen had discovered that Brock’d been one of the Slytherins who’d been bullying Jared) once you broke a bloke’s nose and threatened to dis _member_ him, it just seemed silly to want to go back and snog him.  
   
Jensen’s first kiss with Jared was better than all his other kisses with everyone else put together and then some, but the fact of the matter was, he’d stolen it, and it rankled him no end that he’d so blithely taken what had never been his to begin with, that he’d forced Jared into giving it up, against his will, and that he’d done the unforgivable and repeated his mistake over and over again until he was sure that he’d killed every ounce of affection Jared had ever had for him.  
   
It was the Ackles’ way, after all, and Jensen was finally learning what that truly meant.

 

                                                                                     

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
_Professor Sybill Trelawney, in the midst of some sort of weird trance, to Jared Padalecki, at the end of his first (and last) Divination class early in Third Year. She’d already predicted that Charlie Weasley would die a fiery death, so Jared decided to cut his losses and drop that elective. He and Charlie took Care of Magical Creatures instead; it made much more sense: Charlie liked the outdoors and Jared liked unicorns._  
 

                                                                                            

 

Jared Padalecki lost his mother before he’d even completely opened his eyes for the first time ever, but his father had cradled him close, strong enough to pull himself together and, though inconsolable at times, he kept alive the memory of his wife, and made every effort to raise his son alone in those dark and dangerous times that had shrouded the wizarding world.  
   
When Jared was three years old, his father sheltered two members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Prewett brothers, Fabian and Gideon, who were on the run from the Dark Lord. His dad hid him away in the laundry hamper, shielded by both a Muffling and a Disillusionment charm; Jared’d sucked on his thumb and napped as his father and the Prewetts were slaughtered by Death Eaters.  
   
When the enemy Disapparated in a cloud of black smoke, he’d been discovered by their neighbour, Callidora Longbottom, who’d been out on her morning walk. She came charging into their house, wand at the ready, but she’d been far too late to help. She found him sitting by his father’s body, bawling his little eyes out as the house he’d been born in crumbled about their shoulders in a heap of rubble and soot.  
   
Great Aunt Callie, as she’d always insisted Jared call her, raised him to the best of her abilities, which was saying something considering she’d been in her seventies when she’d taken him into her home and under her wing. Jared often thought she’d hung on to life only as long as she’d absolutely needed to – she’d always had a sickly disposition – for she died not long after he received his letter from Hogwarts. Officially, he’d gained another guardian in Augusta Longbottom, but that lady had had her own slew of problems to deal with, what with her son and daughter-in-law still warded at St. Mungo’s and her little grandson to look after; besides, she was a bit of a curmudgeon and nothing at all like Great Aunt Callie and Jared had never really bonded with her, so this time around, he found himself quite alone, in his grief, and in general. It didn’t help that he was now old enough to actually understand the loss of the only family he could ever really remember.  
   
Great Aunt Augusta had taken him to King’s Cross to see him off that first year (and every year after), and Jared was grateful to have someone to say goodbye to; even little Neville had given him an especially sweet hug, his hands sticky with toad juices courtesy of Jared’s little pet, Ned. And so Jared had boarded the Hogwarts Express with high hopes and lofty dreams, not really caring which House he would soon be sorted into (his father had gone to Wizarding school in Poland, but Great Aunt Callie had been in Slytherin and Great Aunt Augusta in Gryffindor and they’d each extolled the virtues of their Houses to the detriment of the rest); he was just glad to be there, to be a part of something, and he’d fervently wished that his parents had lived to see the day.  
   
He never expected the loneliness, though; it seemed improbable to feel alone in the crowd of children on their way to school, yet he’d felt it keenly, sitting in that compartment on the train, surrounded by others and still quite solitary. It hadn’t helped that Ned, a Natterjack toad who’d hopped into his lap and stayed there as he’d cried at Great Aunt Callie’s graveside, had earned him the ridicule of his fellow riders; he sincerely hoped that his pet (and only friend and confidante) wouldn’t be confiscated just because he’d been from the wild.  
   
Jared didn’t feel quite so lonely when he was sorted into Hufflepuff on that first night at Hogwarts, for his welcome at their table had been warm and jovial, but the loneliness didn’t go away, not with the onset of classes during the day, not in the common room where everyone gathered before bedtime, and not anytime in between. It stayed with him, enveloping him like a heavy black cloak, and besides Ned and Florence (the tiny Flutterby Bush he’d been given by his Head of House as a welcome present), he’d made no friends at all.  
   
The cloak lifted (ever so slightly) only when Jared first met Jensen Ackles, and by the time Jensen left him (and Hogwarts), Jared had long been freed of its suffocating weight.

 

 

                                                                                              

 

Jensen was, by no means, not in any way, shape or form, what one would call ‘nice’ to him. But it didn’t matter to Jared; he’d attached himself to the older boy, in spirit if not in body (Jensen would hardly permit that), and he was strangely enamoured of him. It was hero-worship, Jared supposed, because Jensen was handsome and so popular and everybody wanted to be his friend, but in truth, no one really was; not even Bill Weasley, or at least, that’s how it had seemed to Jared’s unjaded eyes.  
   
Jensen had this way about him that held everyone at arm’s length, while still beckoning them like moths to flame, so Jared never really minded all the mean things Jensen said to him (when he actually deigned to talk to him at all in the beginning), nor did he give a hoot about the way Jensen would whack him upside the head, or thump him on the arm, or trip him up, or smack into him on purpose whenever they passed each other in the corridors or in the Great Hall or out on the grounds. It annoyed Jared no end, of course, but it was always done with a cheeky smirk or a playful wink, for Jared’s eyes only, and he found himself completely incapable of holding a grudge; when anyone else tried the like with Jared, Jensen had been the first one to set them straight. With his fists, if necessary.  
   
Jared still remembered that day in his first year with startling clarity. Those Slytherin gits who’d been teasing him from the beginning of the year cornered him in the boy’s bathroom, pushing him around and calling him nasty names and, instead of running and telling a teacher, he’d stupidly decided to stand and fight and be a man and he’d gotten beaten up as a reward. He couldn’t really say what’d made him call for Fern just then – the house elf had become his third friend after Ned and Florence when she’d caught him trying to sneak into the kitchens for a snack (he’d been hiding from Slytherins earlier and had missed dinner); they’d been friends ever since and he’d never gone hungry again – but call for Fern, he did, and, to his eternal surprise, she came to him, Jensen at her side.  
   
Jared had never seen Jensen look so scary. He’d never seen _anyone_ look so scary, really, and he knew Augusta Longbottom.  
   
He’d cowered in a corner, protected by Fern, and watched as those five Slytherin boys (two of them bigger than Jensen) had turned on him, wands out and fists flying. Jensen, though, had held his own, casting jinxes and hexes every which way, and when the smaller of his opponents had fallen, he’d tucked his wand up his sleeve and hammered on the biggest of the boys, the one who’d hit Jared and broken his nose. It had taken Bradley Adams (the Head Boy from Ravenclaw) and another seventh year to haul Jensen off that foul git, Brock Kelly, and everyone involved in the fight had been given detention for it; Jared’d often thought that those Slytherins had gotten off easy.  
   
Madam Pomfrey had been very nice about fixing his broken nose and Jensen’s split lip (her _Episkey_ had been highly efficient and Jared vowed he would pay a little more attention in class; healing spells could come in rather handy when one was as clumsy and ill-fated as him), but when Jensen moaned and groaned about how his black eye was marring his pretty face, she’d just spelled a slab of steak into his hand and, in a huff, told him to heal himself. Jared had snorted and Jensen had laughed and, in the next instant, Jared was certain that, even if Jensen never acknowledged it, he’d made his first (human) friend.  
 

 

                                                                                               

 

Life at Hogwarts got a whole lot easier after that. It could’ve had something to do with the fact that one of the most popular boys at school had come to his defence, but Jared suspected it was a bit more than that. Now, when he was in a crowd, he no longer felt alone; it was as if he had someone watching over him and, even then, as naïve as his eleven-year-old self had been, and as improbable as the thought had to be, he’d been pretty sure it was all because of Jensen.  
   
Jared really applied himself to the task of making friends then, following Jensen’s advice and talking to his housemates. Then he’d met Charlie, who’d fast become his best mate, by default really, because Jensen had been intent on ignoring his existence for the most part. Jared took it all in stride; he focused on his studies, and tried to find his way out of the shell he’d called home since his father had died. And through it all, there was Jensen. In his face, in his periphery; always there even if Jensen always insisted otherwise.  
   
It made Jared feel safe. And in a strange way that he’d never admit to anyone else, least of all to Jensen, he’d felt important. And he loved that feeling. Even with Great Aunt Callie, whom he’d loved like a mother, Jared hadn’t felt this cherished. It was crazy, and he was certain that it might’ve all just been fanciful thinking on his part, but that didn’t make it any less true, and through the years, bit by bit, with actions and never words, Jensen reinforced that feeling, and had Jared known at eleven what he now knew, if he’d known that he’d been allowed to like a boy, the way boys usually liked girls, he was pretty sure he’d have realized that Jensen had also been his first love.

 

                                                                                              

   
For all of Jensen’s incessant grouchiness at Jared’s clinginess whenever they were alone together (Jared would never dare show that side of their…acquaintance…in the presence of others), sometimes Jensen insinuated himself into Jared’s life in ways that even Jared could never have imagined, not if he’d been given a million years to mull it over.

 

                                                                                                           

   
“Why on earth are your hands always so grubby?”  
   
Jared baulked self-consciously and hid his hands in his robes. “It’s Ned.”  
   
“Who’s Ned?”  
   
“My pet toad.”  
   
“Your pet _toad?_ ” Jensen sighed in resignation. “Just when I think you can’t possibly get any more pathetic, you go and outdo yourself.”  
   
“Oi!” Jared kicked Jensen in the shin, none too gently, and he took perverse pleasure in hearing Jensen’s grunt of pain. “He’s a very nice toad!”  
   
“Warts and all, I’m sure. Unlike his owner, more’s the pity,” Jensen muttered, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Cats make excellent familiars, and owls are bloody useful in a pinch, but toads? They don’t do anything, do they? What good is he?”  
   
“He’s my friend!” Jared spat crossly, his throat tightening with the threat of tears. “The only one I’ve ever had! You can call me what you like, but don’t you pick on Ned!”  
   
Jensen stared at him as if he’d been struck with a _Silencio_. He was quick to get a hold of himself, though. “Fine. All right. If only you would defend yourself as well as you just defended your little amphibious mate.” Jensen sniffed mockingly. “So. When do I get to meet him?”  
   
Jared was taken aback by the offhand question. “You…you want to meet him? My toad?”  
   
“Yes. Ned. He puts up with you, doesn’t he?” Jensen smirked. “Perhaps he can give me a few pointers.”  Jensen laughingly dodged out of the way of Jared’s foot before it could again connect with his shin, walking backwards with a cheeky grin on his face as he called out, “This Saturday. Out here, after breakfast, yeah? You bring the toad, I’ll bring some dead flies and you can practice your Hover Charm – which you’re rubbish at, by the way – while Ned catches _his_ brekkie.”  
   
It spoke volumes that Jared didn’t think twice about how Jensen knew that Jared’s Charms needed work, and neither did he wonder where and how Jensen would get those dead flies.

                                                                                                             

 

Years later, two weeks after Ned had hopped off to that great big pond in the sky, Jared received a parcel by Special Owl Post, complete with a card that read: _Enclosed, please find your very own Puffskein. Not that anything can replace Ned (RIP old chum), but at least when you cuddle Penelope here, your hands will stay clean. And your nose, too._  
   
The note wasn’t signed, but Jared would know Jensen’s handwriting anywhere, and no matter how much he’d tried to bribe the owl, it refused to take the gift back, puffing out its glossy, speckled black and grey feathers in an indignant huff when Jared had tried to offer payment for the parcel. It didn’t refuse the tiny bit of chicken Jared fed it from his own lunch, however, and, from that day forth, it never strayed far from his side.  
   
Jared found out later that she was a Greater Sooty Owl native to the Eucalyptus forests of South Eastern Australia and, even though his ire rose every time he thought about the man who’d sent her to him, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the cantankerous creature. He named her Rogue and took care of her like she took care of him: like family.

 

                                                                                               

“Did you say something to Walton?”  
   
Jensen blinked at the sudden change in subject (they’d been debating the merits of Peppermint Toads over Ice Mice after Jensen’s earlier trip to Honeydukes) and for a second, he actually looked puzzled, but then his gaze got shifty and Jared knew he had him pegged.  
   
“I don’t even know who that is,” Jensen hedged.  
   
“You’re barmy if you think I buy that,” Jared scoffed. “Benjamin Walton, captain of the Hufflepuff team, and I can see right through that innocent expression of yours, so don’t even bother.”  
   
“Hmm. Your captain, eh? You see, Jared, I’m a bit busy trying to knock him off his broom whenever he’s around, you know? It detracts from the exchange of the usual social niceties.”  
   
Jared snorted and shifted around on the ground until he got a bit more comfortable, but Merlin, he always managed to find that area of the lush Hogwarts lawns that was littered with pebbles that dug into every inch of his flesh. Jensen watched him with an amused expression for a full minute before pulling out his wand and casting a Cushioning Charm that made Jared feel like he was suddenly lying on a very comfy cloud.  
   
“I swear sometimes I think you forget you’re a wizard, Jared.”  
   
“Shut it, you. All I know is, one game I’m a Seeker, then I take a tumble off my broom and suddenly Walton says he wants me to try my hand at being a Chaser or a Beater.”  
   
Jensen, lousy liar that he was, merely shrugged. “So. Hufflepuffs _are_ capable of intelligent thought once in a while. Good to know.”  
   
“Wanker,” Jared muttered affectionately, charmed by the high flush in Jensen’s cheeks. “I practiced at both positions, you’ll be happy to know, and as it turns out, I have a bit of a knack for knocking balls about with a fat bat.” Jensen turned a delightful shade of crimson and, as he tried desperately not to choke on air, Jared leaned in for the kill. “So next time our teams meet on the Quidditch pitch, Jensen, I hope you’re ready for me to _beat_ your pretty little arse.”  
   
Jensen sputtered in indignation, and Jared let out a low whoop of joy for finally, _finally_ managing to get the last word in a conversation with Jensen. He was about to get up and walk away with his well-earned victory when Jensen recovered his legendary composure and tackled him with a Tickling Charm and, Merlin, Jared hated that he never fought fair. Laughing helplessly as he tried to think of a counter-charm, he grappled against Jensen’s superior strength, trying not to notice the hardness of his muscled body whenever it butted against Jared’s, especially when Jensen straddled him, pinning him to the ground with his strong hands. It just figured that his verbal victory had been short-lived, for Jensen leaned in close, so close that his lips brushed the shell of Jared’s ear with every word he spoke, as he swiftly turned the tables on him.  
   
“Not if I beat you first,” Jensen whispered silkily, the tone of his voice sending shivers down Jared’s spine. And as if that weren’t enough, he also gave Jared’s bum a good, hard pinch before getting up in one graceful move and striding off, his steps jaunty and a whistle on his lips.  
   
Smug bastard.  
   
The next time Hufflepuff played Ravenclaw, he and Jensen had been so caught up in their own game of airborne one-upmanship that they’d completely failed to notice when Sandy McCoy caught the snitch, giving Hufflepuff its first victory against Ravenclaw in years, and giving Jared a much better platform from which to crow his victory.

 

                                                                                               

“Jensen!”  
   
“Jared.”  
   
“What are you doing here?”  
   
“In case it’s skipped your notice these past five years, I go to school here,” Jensen drawled, sardonic as always, but Christmas just seemed to bring out a little extra snark in him, making him more contrary than usual.  
   
“Oh, I noticed all right. Thorn in my side.” Jared smirked playfully at him for a second before shooting him a look that was genuinely curious. “But don’t you have a family to go home to? Won’t they miss you?”  
   
“Ah, yes. My family.” Jensen started picking pieces of lint (some of them imaginary, Jared was sure) off Jared’s robes, his manner nonchalant and his tone anything but. “My family is not at the Manor this Christmas, they’re in Majorca.”  
   
“Oh.” Jared blinked. Who went to the beach at Christmas? Christmas was about snow and trees with twinkling lights and sipping mulled cider while sitting around a roaring fire, with friends and family, if you were blessed enough to have them, and sharing presents and good cheer; it wasn’t about sunning yourself on a beach in Spain.  
   
“Yeah. Who does that, right? Winter’s the one time my freckles sort of fade, if not into oblivion, then at least somewhere close, and they want me to go on a bloody beach holiday?” Jensen rolled his eyes as Jared bit his lip and tried not to laugh. “Besides. I’ve never spent a Christmas at Hogwarts. I wanted to experience it and, now that I have, well, let’s just say that you should appreciate my presence here a bit more.”  
   
“Is that right?” Jared humoured him. “Do tell.”  
   
“Well – look at all these lonesome little lion and badger cubs and that flock of Ravenclaw fledglings over there with just you, as the oldest here, to guide them. It’s pathetic. They’re just like you when you were their age. They need _me_ to show them the path to popularity. I mean, you can’t possibly get any better than Head Boy, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, current Holder of the Most House Points, and the best looking person to have ever attended this school.” Jared couldn’t hold in his laughter this time, but Jensen just ignored him, his tone lofty but his eyes dancing with merriment. “After all, look at the wonders I worked for you.”  
   
“Can’t argue with that,” Jared conceded, still chuckling. “That’s very big of you.”  
   
“Well, you may be growing like one of those weeds you love so well, but I’m still the bigger man between the two of us, and I always will be, brat. You’d do well to remember that.”  
   
“And your staying had nothing to do with the fact that this is your last year and you’re just making excuses to spend more time in my enthralling, effervescent company?”  
   
“Effervescent?”  
   
“You know, because of my sparkling personality,” Jared quipped.  
   
“Sparkling?” This time it was Jensen who barked out a laugh. “Not unless you cast a Fireworks Charm over your head, mate.” He sniffed a bit disdainfully. “And don’t be so full of yourself, it’s a very unattractive trait.”  
   
“I dunno about that. It works well for you.”  
   
“That is because I am me and I am awesome. You are…ho-hum at best.”  
   
“Stop or I may swoon.”  
   
“Just call out a warning so I can get out of the way.”  
   
“So you can catch me, you mean.”  
   
“So I can cue the laughter.” They smirked at each other for a bit, but then Jensen sighed and studied the painting on the wall (a cottage by the sea) with a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s my NEWT year, Jared. I needed the extra time to study.”  
   
“Really?” Jared teased, seeing right through the half-truth in Jensen’s words. “I thought Ravenclaws were born with their NEWTs in hand and school was just a formality.”  
   
“Exactly so; I’m just keeping up appearances. Wouldn’t want the rest of you lesser minds to feel inadequate.”  
   
“You and your affinity for public servitude.”  
   
“What can I say? I’m a giver. Full of grace, humility and the milk of human kindness.”  
   
“Full of shite, more like,” Jared jeered. “Come on, it's Christmas Eve and there's a feast to be had. Off we go!”  
   
“By all means, lead the way. Far be it for me to stand between you and sustenance.” Jensen regarded Jared with an overly critical eye. “Have you grown since I last saw you?”  
   
“You saw me last week. In the dungeons, on the way to Potions. Right before you stepped on my robes and tripped me.”  
   
“That was an accident. And my question still stands.”  
   
“I might’ve tacked on an inch or two, _over the summer_ , and yeah, bloody right, it was an accident.”  
   
“It’s not my fault you’re a clumsy oaf.” Jensen huffed as he scanned the long table for a likely seat. The group of Ravenclaws were on the other end from where Jared had taken his seat and before Jensen could even think about it, Jared grabbed his robes and dragged his sorry arse down onto the seat next to him.  
   
“Brilliant,” Jensen remarked caustically, “I’m surrounded by a bunch of baby badgers.” Jared’s chest shook with barely suppressed laughter as Jensen’s face contorted rather adorably in thought. “A bunch? Hmm. A gaggle of badgers? No, that’s for geese, I’m pretty sure. Is it a brood of badgers, then? Perhaps a pack?” He looked at Jared with such an intensely inquisitive expression that Jared snorted out his laughter. Jensen was such a Ravenclaw at heart, it was delightfully endearing when he discovered that he didn’t _know_ something. “What’s the collective noun for an assemblage of badgers?”  
   
Jared sort of wanted to hug him, but he’d lacked the courage to do it with others around to witness the proceedings. “A cete.”  
   
Jensen grinned goofily at him. “I’ve taken a seat with a cete of badgers.”  
   
“Idiot.”  
   
“You love it,” Jensen said offhandedly, distracted when food started filling up the golden platters in front of them, and Jared couldn’t argue with that kind of logic.  
   
He gave the table a cursory glance; it was nice to see all four Houses (even if Slytherin had only been represented by a couple of their professors) united in this at least: Christmas dinner at Hogwarts. The students were their usual raucous, cheerful selves outside of class, but, as usual, it was a bit alarming to see the professors so relaxed and jovial: Flitwick was brimming with bonhomie, McGonagall looked flushed with good spirits (mostly of the alcoholic variety), Dumbledore looked like a benevolent Father Christmas, and good grief, had that been the teeniest of smiles on Snape’s face? Nah, can’t’ve been; probably a trick of the light. Jared was brought back from his musings by Jensen leaning into his side, warm and sort of wonderful.  
   
“There’s something to be said about spending the holidays at Hogwarts,” he whispered.  
   
“It’s home to me.” Jared gently bumped shoulders with him, smiling wide and true. “And NEWTs or not, I’m happy you’re here to share your last Christmas at Hogwarts with me.”  
   
Jensen seemed struck a bit speechless. “An unkindness,” he blurted out, probably just for want of something to say.  
   
Jared blinked at the non sequitur. “Er… What?”  
   
“A group of ravens,” Jensen explained, “is referred to as an unkindness of ravens.”  
   
“That’s…er…odd. Very odd. And more than a little disturbing.”  
   
“Indeed.”  
   
“ _You’re_ starting to make a whole lot more sense though.”  
   
“You are not allowed to make fun of me or my House. Impudent brat.”  
   
“What? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”  
   
“I can take whatever you throw at me. Because I’m awesome like that.”  
   
“Yeah,” Jared acknowledged, grinning into his Butterbeer, “you are. Sometimes. Other times: Obnoxious prat.”  
   
“Wouldn’t want to give you an inferiority complex by being perfect all the time,” Jensen stated smugly. “And you’re not exactly a quixotic ball of sunshine all the time either, so I wouldn’t talk if I were you.”  
   
“So I’m a ‘quixotic ball of sunshine’ _some_ of the time, then?” Jared flashed him a smug smile of his own. “Why, Jensen, I had no idea you held me in such…er…fond regard.”  
   
“Fuck you.”  
   
“Then again, I am the nicest person I know.”  
   
“You don’t know very many people, Padalecki. And if this is you being nice, then what on earth are you like…nasty?”  
   
“Cross me and you’ll find out.”  
   
“Then I s’pose I shall never find out.”  
   
“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”  
   
“You could never stay mad at me for long,” Jensen retorted with utmost certainty, his gaze locking with Jared’s. “So it’s not me I’m sure of. It’s you.”  
   
Now _that_ had stunned Jared speechless, but there was no way he could refute that logic either, not then, years ago, not now, and, no matter how sorely Jensen tempted him and tried every bit of patience he possessed, not ever.

 

                                                                                                  

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

                                           

 

 

Jared always thought his first kiss would be nothing short of spectacular. In truth, he couldn’t really remember it at all.  
   
He’d always known what he’d wanted out of the experience, like he’d once confided in Charlie: the butterflies in his stomach, the sweaty palms, the tingles along his skin. For the longest time, he’d envisioned exactly how he’d loop his arms around the girl’s slender waist, how he’d have to stoop low to meet her tilted-up lips, how tightly she would’ve had her arms wrapped around his neck. He’d imagined the anticipation, the head rush, the swooping terror and excitement of it all. He’d planned and plotted but never put any of it into action, for, besides Mackenzie Ackles (and he was never acting on that impulse, under fear of death, dismemberment, and Merlin only knew what else, should Jensen have ever found him out), no one of his acquaintance had ever tempted him enough.  
   
Reality, though, had been a bit…different.

                                                                                              

 

He’d needed help getting to the basement that night, and since Jensen was the only other student his size, the responsibility had fallen upon his capable, and slightly less intoxicated, shoulders.  
   
“You’d make a lousy lush,” Jensen grumbled, readjusting Jared’s slump across his body as he manoeuvred them both down the stairs. “Who gets pissed on Butterbeer?”  
   
“Me?” Jared asked a little woozily.  
   
Jensen rolled his eyes, panting a little when they reached the bottom step. He gasped when voices suddenly sounded on the steps above them and hastily dragged Jared into the alcove under the stairs, and when Jared opened his mouth to protest, Jensen whipped out his wand and cast a quick Silencing spell on him, pulling him deeper into the shadows in the nick of time since Professor Sprout picked just that moment to walk by on her rounds with Professor McGonagall. Figured that they would also choose that particular moment to stop for a little chat; girl talk, Jared mused with a giggle.  
   
Jensen elbowed him in the ribs and shoved him right up under the stairs, Jared hunching so he wouldn’t hit his head; he startled when something brushed against his hair. Jensen shushed him in a ferocious whisper. “First, you try to out-Butterbeer me,” he huffed in the quietest of tones. “Then you think it’s a splendid idea to take a walk under the stars on the Astronomy Tower and we almost get caught by Sinistra, and now this? You are a blight on my life!”  
   
Jared – still rendered quite mute by the spell – pointed above his head and shuddered, wiggling his fingers against Jensen’s shoulder in what he hoped was a good imitation of a spider.  
   
“Spiders?”  
   
Jared nodded frantically as Jensen shook his head in disgust, muttering something about Jared being the biggest baby he’d ever seen, but he did pull Jared a bit closer as he scanned the sloping overhang above them. Something brushed against Jared’s hair again, and he almost climbed Jensen like a tree before he saw the amused look on his tormentor’s face.  
   
“Mistletoe.”  
   
Jared looked up in surprise, blinking at the sprig of leaves and white berries tied together with a satiny ribbon that looked red even in the dark. Who’d put mistletoe in the alcove under the stairs, for Merlin’s sake?  
   
Jensen snickered. “You badgers are a randy little bunch, aren’t you?”  
   
Jared closed his eyes as he felt heat flood his face and, while immensely grateful that Jensen couldn’t quite see him well, even as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, he fervently wished he could go douse himself under a cold shower. When he finally opened his eyes a few seconds later, it was to find Jensen peering at him with a carefully blank expression. Jared raised his brows in question.  
   
“You know what they say about mistletoe, right?”  
   
Jared nodded, but failed to see the point just then: there were no girls in sight unless you counted Sprout and McGonagall and that was just… _eww._  
   
“It’s bad luck not to kiss,” Jensen whispered, his gaze flickering between Jared’s mouth and his eyes, “and, you don’t need any more bad luck if you can manage it. It’s for your own good, really.”  
   
_What is?_ Jared inanely wondered. And was it really bad luck? He was fairly certain that was just a silly little story that boys had come up with over the eons, just as an excuse to kiss girls, and… _mmmph_.  
   
Jared blinked as his mouth was covered with Jensen’s, his eyelashes fluttering madly against Jensen’s, his nose smushed up against Jensen’s, his face, his body and his heart (stopped mid-beat, he was certain) all pressed up against Jensen’s.  
   
Jensen was _kissing_ him.  
   
_Jensen_ was kissing him…and Jared was being…kissed. Under the mistletoe. In the alcove, under the stairs. For the first time.  
   
Eyes wide open, his ears registered a soft ‘plop’ as Jensen pulled away and stared at him, his eyes black in the dim light as Jared stared right back, speechless, and this time, not because of a spell. He’d just been kissed – not even a second ago – and apart from the phantom feel of plush lips pressed up against his, he couldn’t remember a thing.  
   
_Do it again_ , he said, but of course, Jensen didn’t hear him.  
   
They both twisted around in fright when laughter rang out nearby – their professors again, further away this time – but Jensen still shielded him with his body, pushing Jared back until the mistletoe bumped across his forehead, its red ribbon trailing down his cheek. Jensen reached up and brushed it aside, fiddling with the sprig while Jared kept staring at him, spellbound, but not by any incantation he knew.  
   
“Legend is,” Jensen murmured, so quietly that Jared leaned in even closer to hear him, “that when one claims a kiss by mistletoe, the kisser plucks one of the berries…” Jensen dutifully tugged at the bough, a tiny berry coming off between his fingers. “…and gives it to the one he’s kissed.” He pressed the berry into Jared’s palm, closing Jared’s fingers around it. “When the berries are all gone, no more kisses can be claimed beneath that bough.”  
   
This time they both looked up at the mistletoe: four berries left. Jared gulped, Jensen took a deep breath, and in the time it took for Jared’s gaze to fall back downwards, Jensen reached up with both his hands and, cupping Jared’s face between them, like he was cradling something precious, kissed him.  
   
Then he kissed him again, thrice more, soft and so endlessly sweet that it made Jared’s heart nearly burst with fondness. When Jensen pulled away, their lips parting on a sigh, he looked a bit spellbound himself. Then he blinked, his mouth rounding as he undoubtedly realized exactly what he’d just done.  
   
“Oh!”  
   
_No! It’s okay…_  
   
“I’m sorry.”  
   
_Don’t be!_  
   
“I’m so sorry.”  
   
_No, Jensen, please…_  
   
“Forgive me.”  
   
And before Jared could gather his wits together, Jensen ran off and up the stairs, an incantation whispered over his shoulder that spelled the last four berries into Jared’s hand and freed him from his silence, for all the good it did him.

 

                                                                                                      

 

And that was how his first five kisses had gone to Jensen, and despite the fact that they were nothing like Jared had ever imagined kisses to be, they were perfect – _perfect_ – and he wouldn’t have traded them for all the Galleons in Gringotts. He also couldn’t wait to repeat the experience – over and over again if he could manage it – as early as New Year’s Eve, he’d hoped, but Jensen weirdly kept his distance, remaining confined to the Ravenclaw Tower, the one place he could go where Jared couldn’t follow.  
   
The New Year came and went without Jensen. So did most of the rest of the term as he and the other Fifth Years studied for their OWLs, and Jensen and the Seventh Years prepared for their NEWTS. Jared barely saw him, hardly spoke to him, and only flew with him (against him) once, when Ravenclaw trounced Hufflepuff on the Quidditch pitch, well on their way to winning that year’s House Cup. Jared had finally resorted to sending him a note by owl, one that he knew Jensen wouldn’t be able to ignore.

                                                                                               

“What the bloody hell is the meaning of this?” Jensen raged when he cornered him on the grounds after a particularly hectic Hufflepuff practice session. Jared was sticky and yearning for a shower, his hair plastered to his head with sweat, but Jensen didn’t seem to notice any of these things when he pulled him into the space under the stands. Jensen waved the note under his nose and Jared smirked, shrugging.  
   
“You stole my first kiss, Ackles,” he said, affecting nonchalance. “I was saving that for someone special,” he teased, “and you stole it from her.”  
   
“Her who?” Jensen asked in a whisper, his expression shocked.  
   
“Er… I dunno who she is at the moment,” Jared confessed, “but I s’pose I’ll know her when I see her. And fall in love, obviously.” He’d thought about lying but he’d never been able to lie to Jensen before; he wasn’t about to start now. Those kisses they’d shared had confused him but he was completely willing to repeat the experience and see if kissing Jensen – minus the Butterbeer and mistletoe and Silencing spell – would still be as magical as it’d been on Christmas Eve.  
   
The line of Jensen’s jaw tensed. “And that’s why you sent me this note? You want ‘kissing lessons’ so that you’ll know what to do when you do meet her?”  
   
“Well, yeah.” Jared strove to keep his expression as innocent as possible; that’d been part of the plan anyway. A very tiny part. The big part was all about kissing Jensen again. Granted, Jared wasn’t all that great at planning things; kissing lessons was the best he’d come up with. “You’re the one who taught me how to fly, so I reckoned…”  
   
“I should be the one to teach you how to kiss?” Jensen’s tone was flat, his mouth tight and his face humourless. It made Jared suddenly regret this whole thing. He opened his mouth to ‘fess up to it all but Jensen beat him to the punch. “Well. Pucker up, princess.”

 

 

                                                                                                       

 

That kiss under the stands (Jared’s sixth) was more of a punishment, really. It’d had none of the breathless magic of the others, and it made Jared suddenly afraid that he’d built up a memory in his head that couldn’t possibly compete with reality.  
   
He believed it right up until Jensen grabbed him in the library the next evening, pushing him up against the book stacks, kissing him insensate to everything but the touch, scent and taste of Jensen. It wasn’t as brutal as the kiss that preceded it, but it was possessive, and Jared was beginning to find that he didn’t mind that one bit; it was more exciting and heady than anything his meagre imagination could’ve ever come up with.  
   
He got his eighth kiss mid-air, when Jensen playfully rammed into him and entangled their brooms (supposedly to teach him a Beater move that was all sorts of illegal unless you were playing the Weasley version of Quidditch). Jared laughed and Jensen just leaned over and claimed his mouth, kissing him breathless, and it was only Jensen’s quick reflexes that saved Jared from taking another tumble off his broom.  
   
His ninth kiss was up against a boulder on the shores of the Black Lake, and while this kissing business was fantastic and all, it lacked somewhat in the enchantment of the first few; perhaps the mistletoe _had_ played a bigger role that he’d initially thought. It was obviously time for Jared to take matters in his own hands, which, when it came to Jensen, meant making Jensen think that it'd all been his idea in the first place.  
   
Their tenth kiss came when Jensen cornered him in one of the Herbology greenhouses one bright and sunny day, no one else around, Jensen’s face so serious (although Jared was fairly certain he was aiming for sexy) that Jared laughed right into his mouth, causing him to pull back in a huff.  
   
“What?” he snapped, whacking away a Honking Daffodil that was trying to cop a feel; it…well… _honked_ at him.  
   
“You’d make a lousy professor.”  
   
Jensen blinked at him. “What?”  
   
“Shouldn’t you be giving me pointers on the proper way to kiss?”  
   
“You learn by doing,” Jensen insisted, kissing him again; Jared didn’t respond and Jensen sighed and pulled away in annoyance. “Oh, right. Hufflepuff. Would you prefer your instruction in point form? Perhaps I should bring some parchment next time so you can take notes?”  
   
Jared worked hard to suppress a smile at Jensen’s acerbic tone, especially in light of the fact that a sunny yellow flower was so lovingly caressing Jensen’s cheek. “I don’t think the Headmaster would approve the inclusion of kissing lessons in the syllabus.”  
   
“Pity that. Lucky for you, you have me.”  
   
“Yes. Lucky, lucky me.”  
   
“Sarcasm does not become you.” Jensen huffed again and pressed in close, pinning Jared to the workbench with his hands, and already he was much more like the cranky Jensen of old, the one Jared adored. Secretly, of course. “So. To begin your formal instruction: When one kisses…someone…”  
   
“The one they’re in love with.”  
   
“I don’t believe in love. It’s a fool’s errand.”  
   
“ _I_ believe in love.” Jared chuckled when the daffodil’s leaf tickled Jensen’s ear. “That _daffodil_ believes in love.”  
   
Jensen glared at the plant but it just tooted softly and kept up with its ministrations. “Figures. You’re both quite foolish.”  
   
“How do _you_ kiss someone you love? Or like?”  
   
“I don’t love or like anyone. Unless you intend me to kiss you like I kiss my mother. Her, I love. Also? That’s just sick.”  
   
Jared laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, you idiot!”  
   
 “Fine. All right. I might not know love, but I sure as hell know how to fake it. C’mere.” Jensen’s hands framed Jared’s face. “Generally,” he started in a bit of a husky whisper as his thumbs dug into Jared’s cheeks where his dimples usually were, “you start by gently grasping her face. Then,” he murmured softly, his gaze moving between Jared’s eyes and his lips, spit-slick where Jared licked them, “you very tenderly kiss her lips.  Giving her every opportunity to pull away if she wishes. Girls like to do that; they like to tease. If she doesn’t do you any bodily harm, you should play into that and repeat the soft kisses until she stays. Like this.” He dutifully demonstrated, pressing his plump lips against Jared’s, the kisses light and airy with just the tiniest hint of moist heat. “You can suck at her lips a bit, if you like. If she allows it,” he said, parting his lips and sucking on the bow of Jared’s upper lip, delicate, elusive little nips that had Jared practically melting into a puddle, they were so sweet. “You can lick,” Jensen whispered, sound a bit wrecked as he inched closer, until not even a sliver of space existed between their bodies as his tongue poked out to lick across Jared’s top lip, tracing a tentative path into his mouth until Jared’s lips parted on a sigh and he took Jensen’s bottom lip between them, sucking softly, revelling in the breathy little moan Jensen let out. “You can use your tongue…” Jensen gasped as he came up for air, just for a second before he plundered Jared’s mouth again, his tongue delving inside to tease and tangle with Jared’s until they both groaned and opened their mouths wider and kissed deeper as Jared got hard in his trousers.  
   
Then Jensen wrenched his mouth away, the look in his eyes shattered as he stepped back, turned on his heels and stalked away.  
   
Later that night, in the solitude of his four poster bed, as his dorm-mates slept and snored around him, Jared relived the heat of that kiss, closing his eyes and fisting his hand around his cock, tugging with fierce desperation as he came in his pyjamas, panting and wishing more than anything that Jensen was there with him.  
   
After that day in the greenhouse, and the exchange of an abundance of truly _magical_ kisses, in and around every nook and cranny of Hogwarts (and not counting those the Honking Daffodil had bestowed upon Jensen’s person), Jared’d stopped keeping track. There’d been too many to count after that anyway, even with the distraction of Jensen’s NEWTs and Jared’s OWLs, and by the end of term, Jared was pretty sure that he never wanted to kiss anyone else. Ever.  
   
He couldn’t wait for them to find a way to spend the summer in each other’s company, as much as possible, so Jensen could teach him all sorts of…umm…other, sexier new things besides kissing.  
   
It was really too bad Jensen hadn’t felt the same way.

 

 

                                                                                               

Months later, Jared’d turned up at The Burrow and Jensen hadn’t, but by then, it’d hardly mattered, because Jared hadn’t been able to forget what he’d seen when he’d found Jensen on the train en route to London, in that empty compartment. Well, empty except for Jensen and that arsehole Brock Kelly, who’d been down on his knees at the time, sucking on Jensen’s cock like it was a particularly sweet Sugar Quill, Jensen’s fingers splayed over Kelly’s head as he’d held him close and pumped into his mouth.  
   
Their gazes had collided then, Jared’s completely gobsmacked, more than a little horrified and a hell of a lot betrayed, and Jensen’s a bit sad, but glazed over with arousal and maybe a little self-loathing as he’d grunted and spent himself, his eyes still focused on Jared, Kelly moaning wantonly as he’d licked and sucked Jensen clean of every bit of his come.  
   
It was the last Jared saw of Jensen for another two years, and like Jensen had once said, Jared had long since forgiven, if not forgotten, by then.

 

                                                                                             

 

The only thing he really remembered of his sixth year at Hogwarts was anxiously trying to better his OWL grade for Defence Against the Dark Arts; ‘Acceptable’ was _un_ acceptable to him, especially seeing as how he’d lost his father. Every spare moment he’d had had been dedicated to diligently preparing for his NEWTs the next year, and trying not to miss Jensen too much. He succeeded with his studies and failed miserably when it came to Jensen.  
   
He still spent most of the summer with the Weasleys; Mrs. Weasley had practically adopted him the year prior, when she’d finally learned that it’d been his dad who’d died trying to save her brothers, the Prewetts, the same men Fred and George had been named for, at least in their initials. It had made Jared exceedingly happy to be a part of such a big, boisterous and very loving family, but his high spirits dimmed as the days went by and Jensen didn’t join them.  
   
Bill mentioned in passing that Jensen was excelling at Connemara, one of the most elite Wizarding universities in the world, and he was spending his summers in school to fast track his way out with a Masters in Charms. He also captained the university’s Quidditch team, the Connemara Conjurors, and had even taken them to victory in the European Varsity Games. There was talk of a Ministry job waiting for him as soon as he graduated and Jared couldn’t have been more proud or happier for him; he just hoped Jensen was happy, too.  
   
Jared’s last year at Hogwarts, the one he’d wanted to make the most memorable, was anything but. It dragged on in an endless daze of homework and fretting feverishly over his NEWTs. To be fair, though, he’d brought it upon himself; many of his classmates had left after sixth year, some even immediately after taking their OWLs, but he felt as if he owed it to himself to try harder, to have a back-up plan in case his career of choice didn’t pan out. It was the smart thing to do; it was what Jensen would’ve wanted him to do.  
   
Quidditch was his only salvation. From everything, really: the never-ending toil and tension of school, to planning for a future after school that never seemed too clear no matter how hard he tried to picture it in his head. Besides which, Quidditch was in his blood; it was his legacy. He knew from Great Aunt Callie that his father had played in the World Cup once, long ago, and maybe someday, Jared would follow in his footsteps and do the same. It was a good aspiration to have, he thought. It was the only anchor in the sea of uncertainty he’d found himself adrift in, so he clung on for dear life as he worked and studied and played harder than he’d ever done before.  
   
It was well worth the effort when he graduated with better marks than he could’ve ever hoped for and, a couple of months later, when he tried out and made it into the Goonpiper Ghouls, the Reserve team for the Falmouth Falcons, his hometown team, as one of their Beaters. It wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for career-wise, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was happy to be playing Quidditch in any sort of professional capacity; plus, being in Goonpiper meant moving back home to Cornwall and that was a very comforting thought.  
   
For two years afterwards, he dutifully tried out for the Falcons but he never made the cut. He was happy with his life, however, or content, at the very least, and just as he reckoned he was ready to turn over a shiny new leaf in his personal life and embark on a hopefully more exciting phase of his Jensen-free existence, Jensen decided to Apparate back into his arms and into his life, as if he’d never really left in the first place.  
 

 

                                                                                               

The most momentous things, Great Aunt Callie had once told him, happened when you least expected, and it was really up to you to decide whether to run away or rise to the occasion.  
   
   
“Hello, Hufflepuff,” Jensen blithely greeted as he stood his ground upon Apparation, when Jared barrelled into him, their arms wrapping around each other just to keep their balance. Or at least that’s what Jared told himself.  
   
“Jensen!”  
   
“Brat.” Jensen nodded as if they’d bumped into each other in the hallways at Hogwarts only yesterday. “Merlin’s Bones, you’ve shot up like a reed! Did Sprout secretly feed you fertilizer? You’ve grown taller than me!”  
   
“Told you I would.” Jared laughed, and he couldn’t help himself, he hugged Jensen close. “I sent you letters.”  
   
“Did you?”  
   
“Plural. And you didn’t reply. Not even once!”  
   
“I must not have gotten them.”  
   
“Owl Post can find anybody.”  
   
“Perhaps I made myself Unplottable.”  
   
Jared rolled his eyes. “That would work only if everyone didn’t already know you were at Connemara.”  
   
“Obviously I didn’t think it through well enough.” Jensen smirked.  
   
“As if.” Jared laughed. “It’s so good to see you!” Jensen looked like he’d swallowed a particularly bitter pill, so Jared gave him another big squeeze, hoping he’d get the message and understand that there were no hard feelings, and trying not to be too obvious about burying his nose in the hair at Jensen’s neck. “Merlin, I’ve missed the way you smell! How’ve you been?”  
   
Jensen cleared his throat, his gaze locked with Jared’s. “You’ve missed the way I… _smell?_ ”  
   
Jared snorted. “Well, I missed you, too. But then you already knew that from my letters…”  
   
“Which I never received.”  
   
“Which you _claim_ to have never received.”  
   
“How do I smell?”  
   
Jared hid behind his messy fringe, a bit embarrassed; he hadn’t meant for that bit to slip out. “Like leather-bound books. Parchment and ink. Melted chocolate. And a hint of salt. Like the air smells when you’re near the sea on a frosty day.” Jensen blinked at him and Jared felt his face heat. “Or not. Mostly you smell like you. Buy you an ice cream?”  
   
Jensen’s gaze dropped to Jared’s mouth for a fraction of a second. “Always with the food. Although I suppose there’s a lot more of you to feed now, isn’t there?”  
   
“Still a growing boy.” A shout from the main street behind them had Jensen pushing him further into the shadows until Jared’s back was up against a brick wall, and suddenly, Jared couldn’t help but stare at Jensen’s mouth, especially when Jensen absently licked his lips. He held his breath as Jensen pressed in close, nuzzling his face into the side of Jared’s neck and breathing in deep, as if he, too, was chasing Jared’s particular scent, re-familiarizing himself with it; Jared wondered what he smelled like to Jensen, but he wasn’t brave enough to ask. Knowing Jensen, he’d probably get wet toad, Bubotuber pus, rancid onions and rotten eggs.  
   
“How do you do this to me every single time?” Jensen muttered against Jared’s skin. “Every time I think I get you out, you creep back in again, right under my skin, like an itch I can’t quite scratch and just as irksome.” Jared was more than a little confused. And distracted. Because Jensen was _licking_ him. “Have you found her yet?”  
   
“Her who?”  
   
“The love of your bloody life.”  
   
“Oh.” Jared paused, blinking down into Jensen’s stoic face. “Was I meant to be looking?”  
   
Jensen huffed in frustration. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”  
   
“Used to be,” Jared told him nervously, more than a little cautious because the last thing he wanted was for Jensen to run from him again. “Not anymore, though. Not since…”  
   
“I kept every one of your damn letters,” Jensen interrupted suddenly, his green eyes dark with what looked a lot like desire. Jared would know; he felt it, too.  
   
“You did?” he asked softly, quite unable to look away from this boy who’d made his miserable life worth living. This boy who was now a bit more of a man. A man who excited him in a way that no one else ever had.  
   
“You know I did. You knew I needed them; that’s why you kept sending them.”  
   
“Did they cheer you up?”  
   
“Yes. Just as much as they made me wretchedly homesick.”  
   
“You should’ve come back then. We missed you at the Weasleys’.”  
   
“Only at the Weasleys’?” he asked in a hushed, expectant whisper, right up against Jared’s mouth, and it looked like a lot was hinging on Jared’s answer; now was not the time to tease.  
   
“I missed you from the second you left,” Jared said. “Always. There wasn’t a moment I didn’t miss you… _mmmph!_ ”  
   
And just like that Jensen was kissing him again and all was right in Jared’s world.  
   
All was bloody brilliant actually.

                                                                                                    

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

  
_Ron Weasley, to Jared, who’d had to agree with that sage analogy. He’d been there and done that (fallen in love and been blindsided by a Bludger), and he realized it was especially true if the object of your undeclared affection was: too smart for their own good, more than a wee bit high-maintenance, absolutely terrified of commitment, or named Jensen Ackles. Or Hermione Granger, as Ron would’ve been quick to add on had he had the guts to own up to it. It was a good thing that they (Jared and Ron) were so daring and plucky in a pinch (especially in the matters of the heart and being Bludgered). Or maybe they were both just colossally stupid. Same thing, sometimes._

 

 

                                                                                          

It was a lovely day for a walk down Diagon Alley; Jensen just never expected it to lead to a journey down memory lane as well.  
   
He had a plan – of course he did; he was nothing if not meticulous, especially given the latest ultimatum his father’d issued – he just needed to think it through a bit more before he put it into action; this was such a delicate matter. He hadn’t expected to walk past the windows of the Magical Menagerie and catch a glimpse of Jared inside, playing in the Puffskein pen (a treat usually reserved for children, but then again Jared _was_ a giant child), with the proprietor smiling on indulgently. Jensen watched as Jared gazed longingly at the toffee-striped, custard-coloured puffball pets one last time before walking away, waving at the shopkeeper just as Jensen Disillusioned himself.  
   
He followed Jared as he ducked into an alleyway, one that was a well-known shortcut to Fortescue’s – a trip to Diagon Alley was incomplete without stopping for an ice – so Jensen timed himself and neatly Disapparated, appearing right in Jared’s path, and, because Jared had always been a bit slow on the uptake, into the circle of his arms as he’d barged right into him.  
   
A few minutes later, Jensen was kissing him again, because when it came to Jared, he had no self-control to speak of, and worse still, his mouth tended to run off without prior permission from his brain, and before he knew it, he was practically declaring his undying love, just not in so many words, thank Merlin.  
   
They were enjoying their reunion, the gorgeous weather, and their ice creams ( _Everything but the Kitchen Sink_ for Jared – his usual mish-mash of ridiculous flavours and toppings that had no business being together in a single, gigantic bowl that could’ve easily fed all of Ireland, the North _and_ the Republic – and _Fleur de Sel Caramel_ for Jensen), when things went straight to Hell in a rather fashionable handbasket otherwise known as Jensen’s mother.  
   
“Darling!”  
   
Jensen tried not to leap right out of his skin as she appeared on the street beside their table with a loud cracking sound, but he quickly gathered his wits and stood to greet her, Jared following suit like the polite little Hufflepuff he was. “Mother.”  
   
“Fancy meeting you here!”  
   
“Yes. Fancy that,” Jensen remarked drolly, giving her a quick kiss, and resolutely trying to ignore Jared’s presence; perhaps if he did, she would, too. Then, of course, Mackenzie had to go and appear beside her.  
   
“Oh, hello, Jensen!” She smirked at him. “Mum, I thought you told me that a herd of stampeding Erumpents couldn’t make Jensen join us today.”  
   
Donna Ackles chuckled. “I can assure you that I’m as surprised as you are. I hadn’t even bothered to mention it to him, but now that you’re here, Jensen…”  
   
Jensen gritted his teeth. “I am not joining you. I have other business to attend to.” This, of course, made both his mother and his sister take notice of Jared. “And I bumped into an old…acquaintance.” He dared not look at Jared as he spoke, but he had no other choice; this was for Jared’s own good.  
   
“Jared, right?” Mackenzie asked. “You were in my year at Hogwarts.”  
   
Jared nodded with an uncertain look in Jensen’s direction and, shite, Jensen felt like a heel. “Mother, this is Jared Padalecki. Jared, my mother.”  
   
“How do you do, Mrs. Ackles?”  
   
“Very well, thank you, dear.” Donna beamed at him; she’d always been impressed by good manners and Jared’s were impeccable, courtesy of his Great Aunt Callie, Jared’d once told him. “If you were in Mackenzie’s year, how is it that you know Jensen so well?”  
   
“Er… ‘So well’?”  
   
“He’s eating ice cream with you and he detests sweets.”  
   
Jared blinked at that. “No, he doesn…er… Quidditch,” he blurted out, switching tracks as Jensen heaved a subtle sigh of relief. He pointedly ignored his sister’s raised eyebrow.  
   
“Jared’s also a friend of Charles Weasley, Mother; we used to meet at the Burrow occasionally.”  
   
“Ah!” Donna nodded in understanding. “The Weasleys are always very welcoming. But I have to admit, I’ve not heard your name mentioned in the Ravenclaw Review, my dear.”  
   
“Umm… I was in Hufflepuff.”  
   
“Oh!” Donna looked more than a little startled and Jensen wanted her gone yesterday.  
   
“Mother, didn’t you have errands to run? Don’t let us keep you from…wherever you were off to.”  
   
Suitably distracted, Donna looked at him and smiled and Jensen felt worry churn in his gut. “We’re off to Gringott’s, darling. To pick up your Great Grandmama’s… Oh!” She jumped as Danneel suddenly Apparated beside her.  
   
“Sorry I’m late,” Danneel said by way of greeting, smiling when she saw Jensen. “Hello, handsome.”  
   
“Danneel,” Jensen responded, bending down to politely buss her tilted-up cheek.  
   
“Does this mean you’re joining us to get the ring?”  
   
Jensen stopped breathing, just for a second, but it was long enough for Jared to notice and stiffen at his side. “What ring?” they asked in unison.  
   
It was Donna who answered as she tried not to look at Jared in puzzlement. “Your Great Grandmama’s Marquise Sapphire. Your father and I thought it would be the perfect ring to present to Danneel on your engagement. It needs to be re-sized, though. Your Great Grandmama was a rather large woman.”  
   
And as his mother kept nattering on about his Great Grandmama’s girth, with a few more details about Jensen’s upcoming nuptials thrown into the mix for good measure, Jensen felt the ground fall out from under him as he saw Jared’s once sunny expression dim into something dark and bleak and absolutely gutted, so yeah, Hell, handbasket; it was hopeless.  
   
As Jared Disapparated a polite while later, the remains of his ice cream melting into a sad little mountain of goop, he dropped a folded piece of parchment that Mackenzie picked up and handed over to Jensen. He didn’t look at it until he returned home and, when he did, the words on the page made up his mind for him, and he tossed all his well laid plans out the window; it was time to throw caution to the wind and do what he did best: fly.  
   
By the seat of his pants this time.  
 

 

                                                                                           

 

When Jensen arrived in Falmouth for the Falcons’ open try-outs a month later, as per the instructions on the parchment Jared had dropped when he’d disappeared from Jensen’s life, he was almost too late, and if not for a series of rather fortuitous events, there was no telling what he would’ve done.  
   
“What are you doing here?” Jared spat as soon as he saw him stride up to where the coaches were evaluating potential players to pad the team’s roster.  
   
“Trying out,” Jensen blithely responded, ignoring the malice in Jared’s tone for the time being. “Would’ve thought that was obvious.”  
   
“Nothing is ever obvious when it comes to you, Ackles,” Jared told him angrily, stalking off in a huff and finding the spot furthest from Jensen to wait his turn.  
   
Jensen was about to join him when Steven Williams, the Falcons Flying Coach, whom the team had recently recruited from America, walked by; he stopped when he spied Jensen. “Jensen Ackles, right?”  
   
“Yes. Coach Williams. Good to see you again, sir.”  
   
“And you, son.” The man grinned at him. “How’s that old dog Morgan doing?”  
   
“He was well the last time I saw him,” Jensen said of the Conjurors Quidditch Coach, Jeff Morgan. “If a bit inebriated.”  
   
Williams barked out a laugh. “When is he not?”  
   
“He does do Ireland proud.”  
   
“That he does. So how come you’re here? Done with university?”  
   
“I am. I heard the team’s looking for a pair of Beaters, so I thought I’d give a go.”  
   
“Excellent! Can’t wait to see you fly, son. Jeff’s always had good things to say about you, and don’t think I’ve forgotten that friendly match the Conjurors played against my Windracers two years ago.”  
   
“Thank you, sir. That was a great game. Plus, the chance to play in America was well worth it.”  
   
Williams beamed in approval. “Let me introduce you to our coaching staff. This way,” he called as he set off, right past Jared who resolutely did not look at Jensen, and towards a stand of brooms where the coaches had gathered. Jensen was quickly introduced to the team's manager, Mark Sheppard (who was also the Beater Coach), Jim Beaver (the Keeper Coach), Loretta Devine (the Chaser Coach), and Lauren Cohan (the Seeker Coach), before Williams turned to them and said, “He’s fresh off his captaincy with the Conjurors.”  
   
Beaver squinted at him. “You’re one of Morgan’s? Were you at Hogwarts or an Irish school?”  
   
“Hogwarts, sir. We took the House Cup when I captained the Ravenclaw team in my final year.”  
   
“Hmm…” Beaver looked him up and down, frowning as he did so. “You’re a bit young.”  
   
“With all due respect, sir, your team’s a bit old.”  
   
There was a moment of stunned silence before Coach Cohan smirked. “I like him.”  
   
“You like everyone,” Coach Devine said. “A bit too much, if you ask me.”  
   
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t recall asking you.”  
   
“Ladies, ladies,” Coach Sheppard interrupted. “Common goal, remember? Although, I hope you realize, Ackles, that the Falcons don’t prescribe to the Conjurors version of the sport. We’re vicious out there, and I, for one, would love it if we were able to bring back some of the magic of our glory days.” He smirked at Jensen. “You know what I mean?”  
   
Jensen was sure his face was a picture of unholy glee. “The days of Kevin and Karl Broadmoor, you mean? Back before they were suspended for… What was it the League called it? Oh yeah. ‘Unnecessary roughness.’” He grinned at the man he hoped to impress with his abilities with a bat and broom. “They’re my idols. The original Bash Brothers.”  
   
“Now I _know_ I like you!” Cohan laughed and, this time, Devine joined in.  
   
“I agree. Why wait? Let’s see what you can do.”  
   
Jensen nodded as Sheppard thumped him on the back and led him towards the pitch. “You against one of our Beaters, I think. Maybe Jake Abel. He’s only been with us for a year, and you’d be matched in size and relative skill.”  
   
“If you’ll allow me, Coach, I have a better idea.”  
   
“Spoken like a true Ravenclaw.”  
   
Jensen had to grin at that. “I have a friend here. One I trained with while still at Hogwarts. How about you match the two of us against your best Beaters?”  
   
“And if only one of you is any good?”  
   
“Then only that one makes the team.”  
   
“And if that one is not you?”  
   
“Then I’ll try again next year, but I won’t go away unhappy.”  
   
Sheppard studied him with shrewd eyes. “Who’s your friend?” Jensen turned to point Jared out but before he could say a word, Sheppard spoke. “That Padalecki lad?” Jensen nodded and Sheppard smirked. “The one who’s been glaring daggers at you this entire time?”  
   
Jensen shrugged. “The very one.”  
   
“I know him. He hasn’t made the team the past two years.”  
   
“Then he’s only gotten better this year.”  
   
“You seem to have a lot of faith in him. Considering _he_ looks like he’s about to hex you into next week.”  
   
“He’s temporarily got his knickers in a bunch, don’t worry about him,” Jensen said, waving off Jared’s oh-so-obvious fury and focusing on the task at hand. “The point is, I taught him everything I know. We learnt this game together, he and I, and we’ve come up with barely legal moves that we can execute at the drop of a hat,” Jensen explained, trying not to get too carried away, but this was about Jared, and Quidditch, and it was hard not to. “And we weren’t just friends. We were rivals. He played for Hufflepuff at school but whenever we played for fun, we were always on the same side. I know his moves, and his counter-moves, and he knows mine. We don’t need to _see_ each when we take to the skies! It’s second nature to know exactly where the other one is, and yeah, we haven’t played together in years but we grew up together, and he didn’t have the benefit of honing his skills with Jeff Morgan but he’s done a good job with the Ghouls, as I’m sure you’re aware. This is instinctual for us; we can read each other’s minds out there, and not by any magical means. You know how it is with Beaters. You need that connection, like the one the Broadmoor boys had. That’s why you haven’t taken Jared on yet; he hasn’t clicked with any other Beater. Not the way we do together. Just give us a chance. I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”  
   
Sheppard blinked at him in surprise. Truth be told, Jensen was a bit surprised himself, but he’d meant every word he’d said. “Right then. Our ‘best’ Beaters were traded to the Canons but our reserve Beaters will take you two on. If Padalecki agrees.”  
   
“Oh, he will.”  
   
Sheppard studied him again, and Merlin only knew what he saw. “Lover’s spat?”  
   
Jensen choked on air. “What?”  
   
“I recognize that look he’s giving you. It’s one my wife’s perfected over the years. Getting that look off her face has always involved chocolate and flowers and lots and lots of grovelling on my part.”  
   
“Would there be a problem if it was a…lover’s…spat?”  
   
“What you do on your own time is your business and no concern of the team, its players or its management,” Sheppard stated, doubtless by rote. “So long as it does not interfere with your game. And if you both do make the team, unless you go public with it, no one would ever hear it from me.”  
   
“Understood, sir. I appreciate it.”  
   
“Then go get your mate and show us what you can do.” Sheppard winked at him. “I suggest you start with the grovelling bit. I’ve found that always works best for me.”  
   
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!” Jensen glanced at Jared over his shoulder, only to find him glaring back and then hastily looking away. He sighed; the hard part was done, now for the tricky bit. He strode purposefully towards Jared, mentally preparing himself to beg and grovel and generally make an idiot of himself. The flowers (well, flowering _plants_ , because Jared detested when flowers were ripped off, leaving their parent plant sad and lonely, and Merlin, Jared was such a… _Hufflepuff_ sometimes) and chocolate (he’d have to fly to Honeydukes, Jared’s favourite sweet shop) would have to wait.  
   
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Jared said in a truly bitchy huff as Jensen stalked right up into his personal space.  
   
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”  
   
“Does it have something to do with you?” Jensen nodded. “Does it also require me?” Jensen nodded again. “Then… _no!_ ” Jared roared.  
   
The players nearby shot startled looks at them, giving them a wide enough berth for Jensen to cast a _Muffliato_. “They’re willing to let us play against their reserve Beaters, Jared!” A flicker of interest flashed in Jared’s eyes. “Abel. And probably Roché, if I know their roster. C’mon! You know we can out-fly them any day! We can be the Broadmoors for a new generation.”  
   
“Sure. If you weren’t such a…a… There are no words! I have no words, Jensen!” Jared sputtered, getting more flushed and angry and hurt-looking with every passing second. “All those letters I sent. You… Why didn’t you just _tell_ me? I felt like such a…fool.”  
   
Jensen fisted his hands in Jared’s jacket to haul him closer. “You’re not a fool! I am. Well, I _was_ , anyway,” Jensen growled. “I didn’t tell you about my so-called marriage because I didn’t know about it myself!”  
   
“Don’t give me that! You’re many things, Jensen, but stupid is not one of them!” Jared paused, his chest heaving. “And neither am I.”  
   
“Jared! I just got back from Ireland! My father barely gave me time to unpack before he was telling me about this proposal he’d brokered with the Harrises to bring our families together.”  
   
Jared looked shocked. “What?”  
   
“It was an arrangement, Jared. That is how marriage works in our family – they’re arranged. Dowries, transfer of property, magical assets, a bloody goat or two – you name it! Legalities, not love. It’s been that way for centuries. It’s how we maintain our pure-blooded heritage!” Jensen snorted in disgust. “I knew Danneel in school and, yeah, I might’ve liked her, but Joshua liked her more, and I was too busy playing the field to pay her much mind after that. She never meant anything to me. None of them did. Not even Kelly. _Especially_ not Kelly. That – what happened on the train – was sheer stupidity on my part and, for that, I apologize. _I’m_ the foolish one, I’ll own up to that, but not anymore.” Jensen paused to draw in a breath, and it almost burned his lungs. “I refused the proposal,” he said, looking into Jared’s eyes; “it’s just that I had to handle the matter delicately. Danneel’s a lovely person, and I didn’t want to hurt her. But it’s done now. It’s over.”  
   
Jared’s hands came up to clamp around Jensen’s and he held on as if for dear life. “Truly? You mean it? You’re not marrying her?”  
   
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jensen assured him. “Following my dream, chasing after the only thing I’ve always wanted?”  
   
“Playing Quidditch professionally,” Jared stated flatly, and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Jensen.  
   
“Better than that. Playing Quidditch professionally – with _you_.”  
   
A muscle worked in Jared’s jaw. “I’ve tried out, but I never made it before.”  
   
“Because you did it alone, and not with me, like it’s meant to be.” Jensen smirked, already relishing that bitchy little look blooming on Jared’s face again, the one that indicated that Jensen was in the right and Jared knew it and didn’t like it.  
   
“It’s only because flying with you is fun.”  
   
“Admit it, you’re nothing without me, brat. Don’t you know that by now? Not to worry, though, your veritable knight in shining armour is here to save the day and your Quidditch career.”  
   
“Arse. Hole.”  
   
“Don’t know how that surprises you anymore, Jared. With me, what you get is exactly what you see.”  
   
“That is so untrue,” Jared scoffed. “You’re the most complicated person I know. Your being an arse is just one facet of you.  There are at least a hundred others I’ve taken note of over the years and all of them are equally annoying.” Jensen grinned as Jared rolled his eyes. He’d counted on Jared forgiving him, if not letting him forget all that easily, but right now all he felt was the sure, steady beat of Jared’s heart beneath his hands, and all he saw was that familiar fond look in Jared’s eyes, and everything that’d been wrong in his world over the past month righted itself. Jared punched his shoulder. Hard. “Besides, I’ve always liked what I see.”  
   
Jensen’s breath stuttered a bit in his chest, but he brushed it off with sarcasm, as usual. “You’re like an albatross around my neck.”  
   
“I’m the apple of your eye, and you know it.”  
   
“I know nothing of the sort.”  
   
“Well, I know better than you when it comes to these things. C’mere,” Jared said, pulling Jensen into a hug, squashing him to his chest, like Jared was a big baby and Jensen was his favourite squishy toy.  
   
“Jared,” Jensen muttered into the side of Jared’s neck, “what’ve I told you about public displays of affection?”  
   
“Get used to it, because if we make the team, you’re stuck with me. Hugs and all.”  
   
“Merlin, there goes my life as I knew and loved it,” Jensen mock-complained, patting Jared’s chest when Jared deigned to release him. “We, eh?”  
   
“We. You and me,” Jared affirmed. “ _And_ I get to lord this over you until the day we die.”  
   
“Fair enough,” Jensen acquiesced. “Are we planning on dying together then?”  
   
“Don’t think you can be rid of me that easily.”  
   
“Al. Ba. Tross.”  
   
“Arse.”  
   
“Touché.” Jensen smirked up at the only weakness he’d ever had. “Can we go _kick_ some arse, now? Please? Let’s show them what we’re made of.”  
   
Jared grinned, and it was a thing of beauty. “You lead, I’ll follow.”  
   
“The way it was always meant to be.”

                                                                                                    

 

Jensen and Jared took to the skies as one, but they split up as soon as the Bludgers were put into play, Abel and Roché on their tailwind, countering every move they made. It was exhilarating, and Jensen knew Jared was feeling it, too, like a thrum in the air after lightening crackled through it. They sped past each other, easily dodging Bludgers as they swung their bats, sending the balls slicing through the air and towards their targets with deadly speed and accuracy.  
   
He heard the small crowd of spectators, mostly other players who’d come for the try-outs and some of the coaches; Sheppard and Williams, though, were on their brooms watching them, cataloguing their every move. Time to show off a bit, Jensen mused. He turned to find Jared on his way to passing him by again, so he gave him one of the little signals they’d perfected playing Weasley Quidditch, and, in the blink of an eye, they were executing a flawless Bludger Backbeat; a tricky manoeuvre, even for professional players, but he and Jared pulled it off with uncanny precision, despite their years of playing apart, in unison, no less, backhandedly beating their individual Bludgers in opposite directions and straight for their rivals.  
   
Roché barely stayed on his broom, and Abel narrowly missed getting hit; Sheppard looked like he was about to piss himself with joy.  
   
Jared flew up to Jensen’s side, just as Abel and Roché regained their equilibrium and closed ranks, advancing towards them as one, so Jared and Jensen flew apart, each of them positioning themselves for the Bludger shooting towards them from behind, and when the timing was exactly right, they both pulled back their bats and hit the ball together, with all their might: a textbook execution of a Dopplebeater Defense.  
   
Jensen spun a net to safely catch their rivals, and future teammates, he hoped, before they hit the ground. By the end of the day, needless to say, Jensen and Jared became the newest pair of Beaters for the Falmouth Falcons, and the entire team celebrated as they welcomed all the new arrivals by taking to the skies and playing a no-holds-barred version of the game, the coaches and more seasoned players against the rookies, as Williams called them.  
   
Strategizing came a mere week later, after countless practice sessions and no rest to speak of; they’d barely had time to really introduce themselves to one another before the coaches split them up and took their individual groups aside for intensive, structured training suited to the specific positions they played.  
   
Sheppard took the lead in announcing his picks for their first set of games. “For the benefit of our newcomers, give us a wave when we call out your names. Now, we’ve got the Wanderers coming here for our season opener and I want Sebastian Roché and Jake Abel to play that match, but the week after, we host the Pride of Portee, a much tougher team. Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, that’ll be the two of you and, if all goes well, lads, you’ll get the go ahead against the Tornados, too.”  
   
Beaver spoke next. “Aldis Hodge will be our go-to Keeper when Abel and Roché play, and our stalwart Captain, Mark Pellegrino, will guard the goals when Ackles and Padalecki play. Seb, I still need you to maintain your Keeping skills. Just in case.” Sebastian didn’t look too delighted at the prospect but nodded anyway. “Loretta?”  
   
“Nothing much has changed this year. Our first line worked well for us last season: Misha Collins, Kim Rhodes, Cindy Sampson,” Devine called out. “I’ll play our Reserves depending on the strengths and weaknesses of the opposing team, but as I see it now, our second line will comprise some of our new recruits: Rachel Miner, Rob Benedict, Richard Speight Jr., and Matthew Cohen is our overall utility player; he’s also able to step in if one of regular Beaters gets injured.”  
   
Coach Cohan was the last to speak. “My job’s easy-peasy. Katie Cassidy remains the Falcons’ Seeker against alpha teams. Anyone else and it’s a toss up between Genevieve Cortese and Emily Perkins.” She grinned at her girls. “Things are quite simple as far as I’m concerned: the more snitches you catch, the more matches you play. Any questions?” There was a general hum of consensus as Cohan stood and drew her wand. “Well then, time for team badges,” she declared, and a glass bowl of shiny silver badges materialized in her hand; a tap of her wand, and badges flew across the rooms and attached themselves to all the new players’ robes.  
   
Jensen studied his, resplendent with the Falcons’ team logo etched onto it in black, the bird looking back at Jensen with a ferocious glint in its eye. The badge typified the team’s colours, black and grey, and he and Jared shared a gleeful look as they touched them for the first time.  
   
“They’re not just pretty pieces of jewellery, boys,” Williams said, smirking at their reactions. “There’s a very powerful Protean Charm on them, so there’s no excuse for missing practice sessions and important team announcements. Wear it on your person at all times during the season and in the off-season; it’s mandatory to wear it while you’re in uniform.” He clapped his hands and stood. “And now, I think, we’ll break for dinner. But not before we teach our rookies here the team motto.”  
   
Everyone, coaches and players, good-naturedly pushed and shoved each other as they shuffled towards the centre of the room, hands outstretched and piled one of top of the other as they yelled out as one:  
   
_Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads!_  
   
_Falcons, fly, oi, oi, oi!_  
   
It was a lot cooler than the Ravenclaw cheer ( _Ravenclaw, make them sore!_ ), Jensen thought, and definitely not as lame as the Hufflepuff one ( _Hufflepuff, do your stuff!_ ), but then again, they weren’t exactly in the little leagues anymore.

 

 

                                                                                        

 

 

  
                                                 

                                              

 

                                                                                          


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

                                              

 

Joining the Falcons was like being at Hogwarts all over again, except that this version of Hogwarts, otherwise known as the Falcons Clubhouse, lumped all the students…er…players together based on gender alone; only the team Captain was allowed his own room, as were all the coaches, of course, and they didn’t get to live with their families until the off-season. Jensen understood why a month into playing professionally, though; practice was bad, but the actual games were brutal.  
   
Still, he got to work and play (and _play_ , although those opportunities had been few and far between) with Jared every day, so that was something he could both live with and live for, and then it suddenly struck him: He was living his dream, the one he’d never dared tell anyone but Jared, and it was fucking fantastic.  
   
After that, he was hard-pressed to keep from walking around grinning like the proverbial village idiot all day. And happiness was contagious apparently, because he’d never seen Jared look so cheerful all the time either. True, he had to share Jared with the rest of the team while they were in Falmouth, but when they travelled – by Portkey usually, and at least a couple of days prior to a forthcoming match, just to get the lay of the opposing team’s Quidditch pitch – he and Jared always shared a room, one that usually came equipped with a tiny kitchenette so Jared could cook him things like the good little housewife he was, or at least make him something for tea-time, like cocoa and crumpets and Cornish clotted cream, or scones with jam and Cornish clotted cream, or just Cornish clotted cream by itself. (Jensen might’ve had a slight addiction to the stuff; thank Merlin he exercised like a fiend.)  
   
“I’m not your ruddy housewife, Jensen!”  
   
“But you look so pretty in that ruffled apron, darling.”  
   
“What ruffled apr…? Jensen!” Jared shrieked and nearly dropped the tea-tray he was holding when he looked down to see the frilly, pink and white polka-dotted apron appear on his ridiculously large, lanky body. “I hate you.”  
   
“That’s a load o’ tosh. You worship the ground I walk on.”  
   
“I rue the day I met you.”  
   
“Rubbish,” Jensen teased, smirking. “You’ve got it marked on your calendar, like it’s our anniversary, and you never forget it.” He laughed at his own jest but choked to a halt when he saw the blush creeping up Jared’s face. “You do?”  
   
“Don’t be absurd!”  
   
“You _do!_ ” Jensen crowed victoriously. How positively…delightful. He bit his lip as Jared handed him his cup of cocoa. “So. How come I never got any presents then? Aren’t anniversaries always accompanied by presents? I feel cheated.”  
   
“Sod off,” Jared muttered, taking a sip of his mint tea. “You’re lucky I still speak to you.”  
   
Jensen grinned and drank his cocoa, rich and dark and not too sweet, just the way he liked it; he sighed in pleasure, but Jared was watching him nervously, drumming his fingers against the side of his mug, looking agitated. Jensen frowned at him. “What’s the matter?”  
   
“I need to ask you something,” Jared told him, quite seriously, “and I need you to tell me the truth.”  
   
Merlin’s Bollocks, Jensen and The Truth did not mix well, and Jared knew it. “Depends on the question, mate.”  
   
“Or the Veritaserum I put in your drink.”  
   
Jensen blinked, thoroughly aghast. “You… _put Veritaserum in my cocoa?_ ”  
   
“Don’t shout! It’s only because I really needed to know the truth.”  
   
“There’s a little something called trust, Jared! And you’ve just broken mine!” Jensen put his cup down and stood, glaring angrily down at Jared. “How did you even get a hold of this stuff? Its distribution is controlled by the Ministry! You better not’ve gotten it on the Black Market! I won’t have you mingling with the likes of that Mundungus Fletcher chap! Can’t bloody well believe Beaver and Sheppard have dealings with him!”  
   
“It’s not him! I wouldn’t even know _how_ to ask him for something like that, never mind trust him enough to give me the real thing and then make you drink it! Besides, weren’t you the one who, just last week, told me that I’m good at cooking because being good at Potions in school meant I can follow a recipe?”  
   
“You made it yourself?”  
   
“Snape taught us how in Seventh Year, you know that.”  
   
“I…I can’t believe you would trick me like that. That you planned it! Behind my back because it takes a _month_ to brew the bloody thing!”  
   
“I just… I need to know, Jensen,” Jared pleaded. “I wouldn’t’ve done it otherwise, I promise! And I’m sorry, but it’s just about this one thing, because it means so much to me.”  
   
“Fine. You get to ask me one question. _One_.” Jensen glowered at him for emphasis. “At the cost of my trust in you. I hope it’s worth whatever you want to ask me.”  
   
Jared looked shattered and his eyes got a bit shiny with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But this is important…to me. Did you…?” Jared paused and bit his lip as if uncertain about wanting to hear the truth. He took a deep breath and composed himself. “Did you have anything to do with me getting on the team? Did you pull some strings to get Sheppard to take me on? Did you… _pay_ to get me into the Falcons?”  
   
“That’s three questions,” Jensen drawled snidely.  
   
“Jensen,” Jared breathed, scrubbing a hand down his face, “you have to understand – I have nothing. I’ve never had _anything_. Except for Ned, Florence, and Daphne, and even they’re with Great Aunt Augusta and Neville now.”  
   
“Who the bloody hell is Daphne?”  
   
“That Honking Daffodil who’s bloody well in love with you!”  
   
“It’s still…alive?”  
   
“Of course, _she’s_ still alive! I’m a Hufflepuff; we excel at Herbology. And Neville has green thumbs too, thank Merlin. Besides,” Jared sniffed and generally looked ridiculously adorable, “she pined for you. I had to take her under my wing since she wouldn’t…honk.”  
   
“And there’s the difference between you and me, Jared. I would’ve preferred it silent.”  
   
“She’s meant to honk! She’s happiest when she’s honking!” Jared looked like he was praying for patience, to whatever deity was listening, especially when Jensen snorted with derisive laughter. “All I’ve ever had – that was truly mine – was Quidditch. _Is_ Quidditch. If…if the only reason I’m here, on this team, is because you did or said something, then…I don’t even have that!” He looked imploringly into Jensen’s eyes. “Please. I tried out before and I didn’t make it. Suddenly, you appear and I’m in. I don’t know what to believe. Just tell me.”  
   
Jensen stayed silent for a full minute, processing every word, every nuance and emotion he’d just witnessed, and every one of Jared’s breakdowns he’d had to witness in the past and promptly forgave Jared for putting that potion in his drink. “When I joined Connemara and tried out for the Conjurors, Jeff Morgan asked if I’d led a team before, if I’d trained any players. I told him that I captained the Ravenclaw team and that I trained you, and that you were a better player because of it.” He looked right into Jared’s eyes as he spoke. “That was two years ago. I spoke of you once. Morgan and Williams are friends. I played a friendly match against Williams’ team in America once, so he knew me. When he saw me at the try-outs, he remembered and introduced me to the coaches. The only coercion I will own to is asking them to let us try out _together_ , and the better player, or players, I’d hoped, gets in. So, no. I didn’t really say anything to anyone and no money exchanged hands. You’re with Falmouth on your own merit, or on _our_ own merit. Be that as it may, considering we’re in last place in the league and, apart from the two of us, the Falcons are shite.”  
   
Jared didn’t blink, or breathe, probably, until Jensen stopped talking. “Thank you.”  
   
“Wanker,” Jensen muttered, still miffed at him. “Can’t believe you pulled such a dirty trick. Not cool, _Hufflepuff!_ And how could you think I _bribed_ them? As if I would ever stoop so low!”  
   
“I didn’t want to believe it, but…”  
   
“But what?”  
   
“Misha…”  
   
“That bastard! What’d he say?”  
   
“He just made this offhand comment the other day. That money can buy everything, even a place on the team.”  
   
“I don’t know what he’s on about, but you generally have to _have_ money to buy things.”  
   
Jared shot him a quizzical look. “You _do_ have money.”  
   
“Not anymore,” Jensen told him. “Not since I refused to marry Danneel.” He ignored Jared’s startled gasp. “I’ve been disinherited. And apart from my wages, I have nothing.” Jensen laughed mirthlessly. “Not even a roof over my head for the off-season.” He kicked Jared in the shins. “Git! I’ve half a mind never to speak to you again. You owe me for this. I’m talking chippie runs – all the way to _Scotland_ , because they make the best fish ‘n’ chips in Oban – as many scones and as much clotted cream as I can eat, and…” Jensen paused as one of Jared’s dimples poked into his cheek, “…and if you even think of doing something so underhanded to me ever again, I will end you, Padalecki.”  
   
Jared suddenly reached out, grabbed Jensen’s cup of cocoa from the tray, and gulped down the rest of it, never taking those hazel eyes off Jensen. “Turnabout’s fair play.”  
   
“Doesn’t make what you did any less foul.”  
   
“So ask me something. Anything you like.”  
   
Jensen considered him for the longest while, the question on the tip of his tongue almost immediately; it just took him a minute to pluck up the courage to ask it. From the safety of the other side of the room, as he stared into the fireplace. “Are you still looking for her? Your elusive, heretofore non-existent lady love?”  
   
“No.” Jensen blinked and gave into the urge to look at Jared, but Jared was staring down at Jensen’s empty cup, full of remorse, no doubt. And he’d also picked a fine time to be succinct for once and Jensen didn’t know if he was allowed another question, but it appeared that Jared wasn’t done yet, for he leaned forward to pick up the tray and said: “I’ve already got everything I want right here.”

                                                                                       

 

Jensen tried to hold onto his anger, but he couldn’t stay mad at Jared for long; he’d never been able to, really. He tried to not trust Jared anymore, but the truth of the matter was, he’d never trusted anyone the way he trusted Jared, and it didn’t look like that was about to change anytime soon. He tried not speaking to Jared, and he tried not sharing his space, and every time, Jared let him; he kept silent and stayed away, but never so far as to truly leave Jensen’s side.  
   
Jensen’s funk lasted right up until their next match, when they went away to play the Prides. They were assigned a little room in a large seaside cottage in Portee, on the lovely Isle of Skye, one that was always used to house the visiting team, and their first day there, Jared came in, rain-soaked and shivering, the stupid, sodden idiot – had he not heard of an _Impervius?_ Or a Warming Spell, for that matter? – bearing the best fish ‘n’ chips Jensen had ever tasted before turning around and leaving again, off to seek warmth by the fire in the common room, out of Jensen’s sight but never out of mind.  
   
Jensen followed him downstairs a couple of hours later and watched as Jared sat in a comfy armchair, chatting with Misha, although from the expression on Jared’s face, Jensen knew he wasn’t paying attention to any of it, in one ear and out the other, as he forlornly watched the fire. Ignoring the looks from the rest of his teammates who were scattered around the room, Jensen walked up behind Jared, frowning as Misha leaned forward and patted Jared’s knee, startling Jared a bit when Misha gave it a squeeze.  
   
Jensen growled. Thankfully, it was too low to be heard over the chatter around the room. Pointedly ignoring Misha, he wound his arms around Jared’s neck from behind, absurdly pleased when Jared didn’t so much as  
flinch at his touch.  
   
“Hello, Hufflepuff,” Jensen said softly, for Jared’s ears only, as he pressed their cheeks together.  
   
“Hiya,” Jared said, just as quietly; Jensen could feel the flutter of his eyelashes on his skin as Jared blinked. “What’d you want?”  
   
“What makes you think I want something?” Jensen affected a very put-upon sigh. “Can’t I just shower you with affection whenever I like?”  
   
“Where other people can actually see us? Did you Disillusion me when I wasn’t looking?”  
   
“Do you feel like I cracked an egg over your head?”  
   
“Is there a reason we’re speaking in questions?”  
   
Jensen chuckled and hugged Jared tighter. Then he gave into temptation and pressed a kiss to his cheek, speaking against his skin. “Come fly with me.”  
   
“Now?”  
   
“No, next week.”  
   
“It’s raining.”  
   
“It’s stopped.”  
   
“It’s chilly.”  
   
“I’ll keep you warm.”  
   
“Okay.” Jared sighed, and the sound was sweet and satisfied, as if he’d finally convinced himself that Jensen had forgiven him. “Let me get my broom.”  
   
“It’s by the front door.”  
   
Jared stared at him sideways. “Always so sure of yourself.”  
   
“Always sure of _you_ ,” Jensen told him with another squeeze, releasing his hold on him – for the moment, anyway. He pretended to suddenly note Misha’s presence. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he drawled, sounding anything but. “I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”  
   
“We _were_ in the middle of a conversation,” Misha muttered irritably.  
   
Jared stood and grinned at Jensen. “Misha wanted to know how we came up with the Blow by Blow Beater Attack.”  
   
Misha nodded, standing up and far too close to Jared; Jensen felt that growl rise in his throat again, but he suppressed it as Misha spoke. “I thought those moves could easily be applied to a scoring opportunity for my Chasers.”  
   
Before Jensen could tell him where to stick his “scoring” opportunity, Jared chuckled. “Sorry, Misha. We’ve been sworn to secrecy about those fly patterns.”  
   
“Yeah. Think of them as patented. You’ll need to find the Weasley twins if you want them; we can give you their address if you like.” Jensen smiled, just for an excuse to bare his teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Jared and I have plans.” And without waiting for Misha to respond, Jensen put a proprietary hand on Jared’s back and steered him from the room and out the front door, stopping only to grab Jared’s broom.  
   
Jared shot him a quizzical look. “Er… I thought you wanted to fly.”  
   
“I do,” Jensen replied, grinning. “After you.” Jared hopped on his broom, still looking a bit puzzled until Jensen scrambled up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight, his face pressed into the nape of Jared’s neck. “Sometime before sunrise, Jared. That’s the whole point of a romantic flight by moonlight.”  
   
Jared shook his head and chuckled. “You never cease to surprise me.”  
   
“I’ve heard that’s the secret to a successful long-term relationship.”  
   
“Good to know,” Jared said with a pleased little smirk, twisting ‘round to look at Jensen; it put his mouth within kissing distance, so Jensen kissed him, slow and sweet, before they rose up and into the starry night sky, following the wind that was slowly blowing the rainclouds out to sea. 

                                                                                           

 

The problem with liking – Jensen refused to call it anything else just yet – Jared so much was that it brought out the gentleman in Jensen. It was bloody annoying was what it was, but the urge to do right by him, to treat him like he was not only important, but something precious, someone special, was sometimes too hard to overcome, and it was driving Jensen absolutely bonkers. Especially on those days when Jared looked good enough to eat. Or suck. Or fuck, Merlin help him.  
   
He vaguely wondered if there was a magical cure for blue balls that he hadn’t discovered yet because the existing methods weren’t doing a bloody thing to help out with his little problem.  
   
When the singletons from the team went out on the town, he and Jared joined them, but no matter the temptation around them, or even in the Clubhouse, actually, they only ever had eyes for each other. In Jensen’s case, he never wanted to see _that_ look on Jared’s face again, the one he’d seen over the top of Brock Kelly’s head, one he’d hoped to put there at the time, because it made sense in his stupid seventeen year-old head; Jared would be hurt, yes, but then he’d forget him and fall in love with someone else, someone perfect for him, someone who would love him back the way he deserved.  
   
Now, the thought of Jared loving someone else made Jensen’s blood boil. The very idea that someone else could catch Jared’s attention and hold it made him seethe. It was a good thing that Jared seemed to inherently understand this new – right, maybe not so new, if Jensen was being honest – supremely possessive side of Jensen. Jared never paid much mind to the people they met when they went out together, not even when they were surrounded by wall-to-wall totty, nor did he seem to notice the other, rather attractive members of the team who’d been trying to catch his eye, like that git Misha, or even the lovely Genevieve, whether as friends, or maybe something more; Jared was friendly with them all. Equally.  
   
With Jensen, though, Jared was _especially_ friendly. Amorous, even, Jensen thought with a smug smirk, and so bloody what if Jensen was always the one to initiate their snogging sessions? Jared was still a very active and enthusiastic participant; he was just a bit on the shy side as well, and Jensen could hardly wait to get started on their _shagging_ sessions. Perhaps when the season ended. They could find their own little place, just the two of them, perhaps a flat right there in Falmouth, where they could bring back Ned, Florence and, Merlin, even Daphne, and maybe he could get Jared one of those Puffskeins he’d been so enamoured with, as well as all the bits and bobbins that made a house a home, and see where it led them. See if there was any truth to that “happily ever after” business.  
   
It was so easy, being able to picture it all in his head, a future, _their_ future, Jared’s and his, together; it gave Jensen a whole new appreciation for monogamy. What it should’ve done was raise a red flag in his head, because nothing that good ever came without a price, without strife and sacrifice, and considering his supposed smarts, Jensen picked a fine time to be stupid.

 

                                                                                     

 

The Falcons’ ’93-’94 season went a lot better than anyone ever expected. Meaning that they were still the worst team in the British and Irish Quidditch League and had absolutely no chance at the League Cup, but they’d won more games than any prior season in recent memory and besides, there was always next year.    
   
The highlight of the season, though, was that _everyone_ was abuzz with the news of the Falcons’ new pair of Beaters. They’d been interviewed by the Daily Prophet, the Northern Ireland Informant, the Irish Republic Runes, the Scots Seer, and the Welsh Oracle. They even got a write-up in the Quibbler, but that was some tosh about being the best-looking Beaters in the League, so it didn’t quite count (to Jared); Jensen, on the other hand, had the bloody article framed and, when they got their own place, he was magically enlarging it and hanging it somewhere where everyone would see it: Jared and him, in their full Falcons regalia, smirking at each other and bumping shoulders as they looked back at the reader, Jared’s smile shy, and Jensen’s smug.  
   
What topped off the season, better than anything else could’ve, and apart from the fact that England hosted the Quidditch World Cup that year, was that Jensen got to attend the games with Jared. They were like a pair of schoolboys again, giddy with excitement as the Falcons management got the team a box of seats for all the matches featuring one of the teams from the UK or Ireland. Their hopes to hoist the Cup steadily dwindled, though, when Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg, Wales fell to Uganda, and England was trounced by Transylvania with a truly pathetic score of 390 to 10.  
   
Everyone’s hopes were pinned on Ireland, and considering how bloody well they were playing, everyone’s hopes were sky high.

 

                                                                                       

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t William Weasley!”  
   
“Bugger me! Jensen!” Bill barked out a laugh as he grabbed Jensen and hugged him close, thumping his back with glee. “Haven’t seen you since Hogwarts, mate! You’re utter shite when it comes to keeping in touch.”  
   
“Says the guy gallivanting across the globe as a Curse Breaker for Gringott’s.”  
   
“You heard that, eh?”  
   
“Exceedingly cool job to have, by the way.”  
   
“Yeah. I’m actually posted in Egypt right now. Can’t complain, really.” Bill grinned and punched him in the shoulder. “What about you? If I know your family, you’re probably with the Ministry, right?”  
   
Jensen chuckled. “Hardly. I…er…took a path less travelled.”  
   
“Really?” Bill crooked an eyebrow up at him in question. “Do tell.” Jensen just opened his mouth to speak when Jared jogged up behind him, throwing his arm around Jensen’s shoulder and leaning into his side as usual, and Bill’s eyes widened comically. “Bloody hell, Jared! Merlin, you’ve grown!”  
   
“Bill!” Jared exclaimed in delight, letting Jensen go long enough to give Bill a hug. “Charlie mentioned that the two of you might make it for the finals but I never got a chance to owl him and confirm it. Is he here?”  
   
“Yeah, the whole family’s here,” Bill told them. “Why don’t the two of you join us? Mum and Dad will be glad to see you both. Especially you, Jensen. Jared’s been back on a fairly regular basis, though, haven’t you, mate?”  
   
“Yeah, but not as much as I’d like to, what with our training schedule and all.”  
   
Bill nodded enthusiastically. “Charlie mentioned you were with Goonpiper. A Quidditch pro, eh? Wicked.” Jared laughed and shot Jensen a quizzical look; Jensen merely shook his head. Bill caught the exchange and frowned. “What?”  
   
Jared elbowed Jensen in the ribs. “Go on then, tell him. I know you’re dying to.”  
   
“What?” Bill said again, laughing this time. “Did he finally make an honest woman out of you, Ackles?”  
   
Jared laughed as Bill deftly dodged the kick Jensen aimed at his shin. “Fuckwit,” Jensen muttered, winking at Jared. “We _are_ a couple, though.” He paused for emphasis, and maybe just to see all that lovely rosy colour flood Jared’s face. “Of Beaters. For the Falmouth Falcons.”  
   
Bill, who’d been chuckling himself, suddenly choked on air. “You what?” Jensen just nodded and grinned. “You two… You’re _both_ professional Quidditch players? I don’t believe it! Well, I believe it with Jared, but _you?_ What about your family? What’d they have to say about it?”  
   
Jared’s arm found its way back across Jensen’s shoulders as Jensen’s smile turned a bit rueful. “They haven’t said a word, actually. I’ve been written off. The newest Black Sheep in the family. Last one was my Uncle Artemis, dad’s younger brother; nobody ever heard from him again either. S’pose it’ll be the same with me.”  
   
“Sorry, mate.”  
   
“S’life, innit?” Jensen shook his doldrums off and smiled. “Never mind me. We’ve got a World Cup win to celebrate! And you promised us your Mum’s home cooking.”  
   
Bill, brilliant chap that he was, took the change of subject in stride. “I did nothing of the sort, but knowing Mum, she’ll have made enough food for an army.”  
   
“Maybe, but have you _met_ your brothers?”  
   
Bill laughed. “Point. Not just them, either. Harry’ll be there, too.”  
   
“Harry who?” Jensen asked.  
   
The answer came, surprisingly, from Jared. “Harry Potter, of course.”  
   
Jensen ground to a halt, blinking and looking from one best friend to the other. “Harry _Potter?_ ” Jared and Bill nodded. “ _The_ Harry Potter? The Bloody Boy Who Lived?”  
   
“He’s Ron’s best mate,” Bill supplied with a smirk.  
   
Jensen stared at Jared. “And you knew this?”  
   
“I've met him,” Jared said. “At the Burrow. We had tea and scones.”  
   
“You had tea and scones with The Boy Who Killed You-Know-Who? The Champion of the Wizarding World, and you had tea and scones him?”  
   
“We’ve all had tea and scones with Harry,” Bill remarked drolly, taking the piss as usual, and making Jared laugh. Bill joined in too, slinging his arm over Jared’s and around Jensen’s neck and giving it a good squeeze, the wanker. “C’mon, mate. If I know Mum, she’s made her famous butterscotch scones and, if you behave, maybe she’ll let _you_ have tea and scones with Harry, too. Just so _ickle_ Jensen won’t feel left out.”  
   
Jensen let Bill and Jared, and then the rest of the Weasleys and Harry Bloody Potter have a good laugh at his expense, and it was a good thing, too, for mere hours later, when the Dark Mark appeared in the night sky and Death Eaters wreaked havoc on the campsite, nobody was laughing.

 

                                                                                              

 


	7. Chapter 7

  


  
_Professor Severus Snape, quite cryptically, to Jensen, when he’d found him wandering the halls on Christmas Eve in his Seventh Year, after stealing Jared’s first kiss, disgusted with himself for it, and afraid he’d lost Jared forever. It’d been well after curfew, and Jensen was sure he’d be docked oh, a million House Points, but Snape had just studied him for a few silent moments, as if reading his mind, as if he knew the turmoil Jensen’d felt within, as if he_ understood _. Ravenclaw didn’t lose any points that night, and Jensen had a whole new respect for Snape by the end of it._  
 

 

                                                                                         

 

The Ministry of Magic spun the Death Eater rampage at the Roberts’ campsite, and the casting of the Dark Mark in the sky, as a storm in a teacup. Much ado about nothing: just a few “misguided” Magical folk taking out their “frustrations” on some Muggles who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.  
   
And the truly absurd thing was that, after about a month or so, everyone seemed to conveniently forget that it had ever happened.  
   
Jared, though, was not one of those people. He’d been there; he and Jensen had been back at the Falcons tent by then, right in the thick of things, when pandemonium had broken out as the ominously masked figures strode through the campsite, laying waste to everything in their path, fire and smoke everywhere Jared looked, frightened whispers that the Death Eaters were coming for anyone with Muggle blood flowing through their veins rending the air just as surely as the shrill screams ringing out into the night.  
   
Jared had been terrified. But Jensen? He’d been brilliant.  
   
He’d kept a cool head, barking out orders and ushering people from the smaller tents nearby into the Falcons’ larger one, throwing up ward after protective ward around it, and still, because he was amazing like that, somehow shielding one of the neighbouring tents, one that hadn’t been evacuated yet, from the haphazard _Incendios_ the Death Eaters were casting every which way they went. And then Jared’d watched in horror from the relative safety of the Falcons’ tent as Jensen had been hit by a Fire-Making spell, his robes set aflame as Jared had frozen in fear, powerless to even speak an incantation to save the most important person in his life. If not for Jensen’s excellent reflexes, and the quick _Aguamenti_ he’d cast on himself, he might’ve burned to death that night. Right in front of Jared’s eyes.  
   
When the Death Eaters finally passed them by, en route to wreaking havoc on the rest of the campsite, Ministry officials now fighting them off, Jensen had retreated into the Falcons’ tent, casting a shielding ward behind him, one that had effectively sealed the tent flap shut, before he’d unerringly found Jared.  
   
“You all right?” he asked Jared, panting, his face covered in soot as he’d looped an arm around Jared’s neck and pulled him into a tight hug. Jared clung on for dear life, hating himself for his cowardliness, and completely unwilling to let Jensen out of his sight. Jensen gently shushed him, rubbing his left hand reassuringly up and down his back, his wand still grasped securely in his right. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered in Jared’s ear. “Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you as long as I’m around, I promise.”  
   
For months afterwards, on-and-off, Jared’d had nightmares, reliving the horror of that night over and over again; sometimes, the dreams stayed true to what’d really happened, but other times, they were horrible visions of what might’ve come to pass if just one little thing had gone wrong, had Jensen been a split second too late to save himself. Those nights, Jared woke up screaming, only to find Jensen holding him down, running a soothing hand through his hair, holding Jared tight in the circle of his arms and keeping his fears and that fiery darkness at bay.

                                                                                          

 

“It’s perfect,” Jensen declared as he studied Jared hopefully, looking absurdly young and happy as he spread his arms wide and did a twirly turn in the middle of their new flat in Falmouth. Their new _home_. Theirs. “It is, right?”  
   
Jared grinned and nodded, completely incapable of not hugging Jensen right then. “It’s cosy, comfortable, affordable. Plus, that bakery you like is ‘round the corner, and it’s close to the Cardiff and London Portkeys.”  
   
“It’s scary how much you sound like my mother sometimes,” Jensen quipped; Jared pinched his side.  
   
“So.” Jared bounced to and fro on the balls of his feet, smiling and feeling a bit shy. “Home sweet home?”  
   
“Home sweet home,” Jensen agreed, nodding nonchalantly for about a second before giving it up and pouncing on him, intent, it seemed, on kissing all of the breath from his body. “I think we should start by bringing the rest of the family back.”  
   
Jared did a double take at that; seriously, Jensen’s kisses worked just as well as a Confundus Charm on him. “Whose family?”  
   
“Ours, of course.”  
   
“Er… _Our_ family?”  
   
Jensen smacked the back of his head. “Ned, Florence, and Daphne, idiot.” He shook his head at Jared, a fond look in his eyes. “And Neville should be home for the holidays by now. You two girls can catch up on all the Yule Ball gossip.”  
   
“Sod off!”  
   
“You’re so adorable when you’re annoyed, just like when you were little,” Jensen said, affectionately ruffling Jared’s hair, careless with his words like he got when he was a bit lost in thought. Jared kept his face purposely blank; best to give him a wide verbal berth when he got nostalgic like this and gave Jared these tantalizing little glimpses into his memories of them as children. “You were so bloody cute. Grubby and dishevelled with your tie always askew, and your shirt with its complete inability to stay tucked into your trousers. I hope that when we have a little brat, he’s just like you, chubby and sweet, with a dimpled smile. I’d spoil him rotten, Jared,” he warned playfully, pointing a finger in Jared’s face as Jared struggled to keep breathing normally, “so fair warning: You’re going to have to be the strict parent.”  
   
Jared swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. “What if we had a daughter?”  
   
“Oh.” Jensen looked as if he’d never considered the possibility, so a bit like Jared did, except…less gobsmacked. “A daughter.” Jensen smiled, as if lost in sweet contemplation. “The same, I s’pose. I’d definitely spoil her as well, and then guard her virtue with charms I will _invent_ if I have to – just to keep nasty little boys like me from sniffing ‘round her until she’s at least thirty. She’ll always be daddy’s little girl,” he mused, a faraway look in his eyes before he smiled up at Jared. Then he blinked and Jared saw his face transform as he belatedly registered everything he’d just said.  
   
Time for evasive manoeuvres, Jared reckoned, before Jensen had a full-blown panic attack; no need to discuss the topic  further, anyway; it was more than enough for Jared to know that Jensen was thinking of a future with him in it, with kids, their kids, their family. Together.  
   
He pasted an innocent look on his face and pointedly ignored Jensen’s undoubtedly imminent fit of the vapours. “You’re mean to make fun of Neville, by the way. He was really nervous about going to that Ball. With Ginny, no less. With three of her brothers there, watching his every move, and three more just an owl away. It was essentially his first date.” Jared’s thoughts veered off into wistful territory as he gave Jensen time to regain his lost equilibrium. “At least he _had_ a first date.”  
   
“What?”  
   
Jared bit his lip and tried not to cringe. “What?” he hedged.  
   
“Who hasn’t had a first date?” Jensen asked, grabbing Jared’s face when he tried to duck his head, and holding it, his palms on Jared’s cheeks, warm and moist with the sheen of sweat that’d broken out on his skin; Jared had nowhere to hide.  
   
“Me?”  
   
Jensen blinked. “What’d you mean ‘you’?”  
   
“Well,” Jared huffed, “when would I have had the time to date?”  
   
“Oh, I don’t know. At school, perhaps? Over the summers between school, maybe? While you were in Goonpiper, possibly?”  
   
“I was busy…doing things.”  
   
“What things?”  
   
“Studying. Quidditch. _Things_.”  
   
“Either you’re the laziest bastard ever or…”  
   
“Or nothing. Lazy. Let’s stick with lazy.” Jared tugged on one of Jensen’s hands and, summoning their brooms into his hand, he pulled him towards the door. “You know, Great Aunt Augusta doesn’t like it when people visit after tea. We should leave now.”  
   
“Yes,” Jensen remarked drolly, “let’s not keep Great Aunt Augusta waiting.” He took the broom Jared held out, getting right up into Jared’s space until their bodies were pressed deliciously close; Jared’s pulse skyrocketed. “And when we get back?” Jensen leaned in and bit Jared’s bottom lip, soothing it over with his tongue when Jared whimpered. “You and I are going on a date.” He sealed the words with a kiss.  
   
Jared gathered whatever was left of his wits and tried to string coherent sentences together. “It’ll be late when we get back. Everything’ll be closed.”  
   
“Don’t you worry your pretty little…” Jensen pulled back a bit and blinked at him, smirking playfully as he grabbed his head again and gave it a fond little shake, Jared’s hair flopping about everywhere. “Well. Your pretty, _big_ head about it. Leave the wooing to me, darling. We men do it better.”  
   
He yelped as Jared kicked him in the shin. “I hate you.”  
   
“You adore me and you know it.” Jensen gave his bum a playful squeeze. “C’mon, sunshine, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get back and get to the good stuff.”  
   
   
Turned out, the “good stuff” encompassed an al fresco picnic out on their brand new balcony, both of them sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor as they watched the stars come out and dot the twilit sky, nibbling on a basketful of assorted sandwiches and cakes, fruit and cheese, and polishing off a bottle of very nice wine, and a carafe of excellent coffee, all of which Jensen had picked up from a shop near Great Aunt Augusta’s home. Considering he’d started the day moving into a flat with Jensen, and finished it snuggled together on the hardwood floor, on a pile of down-filled duvets and a Cushioning Charm, in the bedroom they’d decided to share, Jared’s very first date began and ended perfectly.

                                                                                        

   
“There!” Jensen exclaimed the next afternoon, standing back to admire his decorating skills, and looking a little out of breath, as if he’d moved the massive mahogany sleigh bed – already done up in soft, sky blue cotton sheets, with a mountain of plush pillows at its head, and a fluffy duvet folded neatly at its foot  – with his hands and not a spell. He looked at Jared with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Our bed. In its new pride of place.”  
   
Jared humoured him. “Excellent work. Glad I supervised.” He made as if to leave the room. “Fancy a Butterbeer?”  
   
“Fuck the Butterbeer.” Jensen tackled him onto the bed before he could take another step, smothering Jared with his big body and putting those gifted hands of his everywhere, including under Jared’s shirt and onto his bare skin. Jared always lost his head when Jensen did that, so he just sighed and sank into the soft mattress as Jensen kissed him, short and sweet, before he drew back and grinned fiendishly. “I say we christen the bed.” Well. That left Jared with no doubts as to _exactly_ what was on his mind, but just to be the lovable arse that he was, Jensen smirked at him. “Fancy a shag?”  
   
Jared choked back a laugh, and Jensen picked just that moment to nibble at his jaw, lick into his dimple, and then suck on his earlobe, moaning in pleasure as he went while Jared just laid there, struck even more stupid than usual because Jensen’d finally gotten to the point where Jared’d been for the past, oh, few hundred bloody years already.  
   
If only dealing with Jensen wasn’t like dealing with a Manticore.  
   
If anyone had ever had dealings with Manticores and lived to tell the tale.  
   
Jared often swore he saw a bit of the mythic beast in his boy…er… _best_ friend (better safe than sorry; Jared wouldn’t’ve put it past Jensen to have become an accomplished Legilimens in his spare time): head of a man (and what a gorgeous head it was, too), body of a lion (strong and lean, supple muscles and hard planes), and the stinging tail of a scorpion (like Jensen’s tongue, the one that wielded his sharp wit like a rapier). Manticores were also thought to croon softly to their prey as they ate them up alive and, as Jared listened to Jensen spouting his usual soft shushing and humming and _purring_ sounds as he kissed and licked and sucked and bit at Jared’s bared neck, he smirked to himself; he’d created a monster, and now, he was about to be devoured.  
   
It was nerve-wracking and exciting, and definitely a long bloody time coming, but he was all for christening the bed – christening every available surface in their flat, really, horizontal _and_ vertical – and taking the sexual side of their relationship to its next inevitable step. They’d done the kissing, they’d amped it up into snogging, heavy petting, and rubbing each other off with oh-so-brilliant-but-messy handjobs. And now…this: Jared’s deflowering. He sniggered to himself at the silly thought, no matter how fitting it was considering his flair for Herbology.  
   
“You know,” Jensen drawled as he rubbed the length of his erection against Jared’s thigh, “a little reciprocity goes a long way.”  
   
“You… Oh!” He yelped when Jensen bit his bottom lip. “You don’t say?”  
   
“I do say.” Jensen eased up on the biting and suckled instead, reaching down as he did, cupping and squeezing Jared’s cock until Jared was bucking helplessly into his hand. “What do _you_ say?”  
   
“I say…” Jared’s hands fisted in the sheets as his body arced off the bed and he desperately panted for breath. “Merlin, Jensen… How…how can you expect me to think, let alone…oh! _Speak!_ Bugger me!”  
   
“That can be arranged.”  
   
“Smug. Bastard!”  
   
“Mmm... Got lots to be smug about.”  
   
“I think maybe it’s time for you to teach me another lesson.”  
   
Jensen raised himself up on one elbow. “What?”  
   
“Well,” Jared whispered, staring up at him, very likely with hearts in his eyes, “you’ve taught me everything I know when it comes to…you know.” Jared shrugged as best he could lying down. “This.”  
   
“If you can’t say it, we’re not doing it,” Jensen said sternly, but his mouth twitched a bit at the corners and he looked so… _good_ , so much of everything that Jared loved and wanted and needed, that Jared couldn’t help himself, he reached up and hugged him, toppling Jensen onto him again, pressing him right up against Jared, right where he belonged.  
   
“Teach me,” Jared murmured into Jensen’s ear, and he felt every shake of the full body shiver Jensen gave. “Tell me how you like it best. I want to know everything.” _So that no matter the temptation, I can keep you happy, and you’ll never need to look elsewhere for someone to love, or someone else to make love to_ , Jared thought; he didn’t dare say the words out loud, though; Jensen was oddly skittish about that sort of thing.  
   
“How do _you_ like it best?”  
   
“It’s got to be with you. That’s what makes it best. Only you, Jensen.” Jared reached up and nuzzled his cheek. “Always you.”  
   
Jensen stopped and stared at him, biting his bottom lip in consideration. “I haven’t… I’ve never… I’ve never done this before either.”  
   
Jared blinked at him in shock. “You what?”  
   
“M’just as much a virgin as you are.”  
   
“D’you mean never with a bloke, or just never? Not even with a girl?”  
   
“No blokes, no birds,” Jensen told him with a wry smile. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve mucked about plenty, but I never…I dunno, went all the way? I thought about it, though – _a lot_ – but I couldn’t do it. I kept remembering what I heard you telling Charlie once, about waiting for the perfect first kiss and I…well. You were always there, on my mind. Even when you were miles away. Felt like I was cheating or something if I wasn’t with you. Like what I did on the train before I left…”  
   
Jared covered his mouth with his hand. “It’s okay. Let’s leave that in the past where it belongs,” he said, smiling wide; Jensen looked at him as if dazzled. “I’m glad you didn’t, though. Very, _very_ glad.”  
   
“Me, too. It means so much more with you,” he confided softly – _sincerely_ – and Jared’s grin got impossibly wider as he hugged Jensen to him, so close he could feel Jensen’s heart beating against his own chest. “You have to be sure,” Jensen told him. “If we do this. I can’t lose you, Jared. You belong to me.”  
   
Jared nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I’m yours.”  
   
Jensen summoned his wand at Jared’s acquiescence and quietly spelled the clothes from their bodies, never taking his eyes off Jared’s face, and when they were naked, skin on bare skin, Jared closed his eyes and just savoured the warm, welcoming weight of Jensen’s body on his. They hadn’t done this before; not this way. Clothes had come off, always with hurried hands, but only partially; they’d been holding back, and even though they’d had their hands on each other’s bare cocks, it was nothing compared to this, lying together without any barriers between them.  
   
Jared let his legs spread in an open invitation, Jensen’s body settling into the space between them like he’d been made to fit there.  
   
Jensen’s hands roamed reverently over Jared’s body as he placed gentle, worshipful kisses on Jared’s face, down the long line of his neck, along his sharp collarbone to the knobby bone of his shoulder, his fingers all the while tugging and teasing at Jared’s nipples. Jared groaned, reaching out to grasp Jensen’s hips, his thumbs digging into the divots there and his fingers leaving their mark on the swell of his arse. As Jensen moved down Jared’s body to lick and suck at the nipple he’d pinched into a hard bud, his hands wandered again, this time sneaking around the rigid length of Jared’s cock, giving it a few lazy pumps as Jared spurted pre-come against his own belly, Jensen’s fingers smearing in the sticky mess, as if relishing the familiar feel of it before he dragged them down the underside of Jared’s cock, all the way down until he cupped his balls, squeezing a bit and then trailing them lower still, caressing Jared’s hole, rubbing against it until the barest tip of one nimble finger dipped inside.  
   
Jared gasped at the intrusion and held on to Jensen with a bruising grip as he moved again, back up to press his mouth against Jared’s ear.  
   
“Will you let me, babe?” Jensen asked, and the endearment, something he’d never called Jared before, went straight to his soul. “Will you let me in?”  
   
“Yes,” Jared panted as Jensen’s finger sunk deeper inside him. “Anything you want. Whatever you need. Jensen, please!”  
   
Jensen shushed him, kissing his mouth open when Jared gritted his teeth, sucking on his tongue when Jared groaned; Jared bore down on his finger when Jensen started pulling away. “Patience.”  
   
“ _Jensen_.”  
   
“Here, watch this,” Jensen whispered, holding up his right hand as he cast a spell with his left, whispering an incantation Jared didn’t recognise, one that covered his fingers in some sort of iridescent substance, something slippery from the looks of it, something that smelled like an intoxicating blend of cedar and cinnamon.  
   
“What is that?”  
   
“Just a little charm I found in a book once. It was in Helena Ravenclaw’s private library in our common room.” Jensen leered at him playfully. “She had a lot of very naughty books in her collection - she really had excellent taste in erotic literature - and when I left Hogwarts, I made sure to buy my own copies.”  
   
Jared huffed out a laugh. “Of course you did.” He pinched Jensen’s bum and then squeezed gently, cupping his cheeks in his hand and leaving them there; Jensen wasn’t the only possessive one between the two of them. “Also? Your little ongoing crush on a ghost is a bit worrisome, Jensen.”  
   
“You’ve got _nothing_ to worry about,” Jensen assured him with an adoring sort of smile, a smile that distracted Jared completely, right up until Jensen’s talented fingers found his hole again, this time rubbing that slick concoction into the sensitive skin there, around his rim and inside, the slide smooth and easy this time as Jensen added a second finger, and then a third, stretching his hole, filling Jared with a delicious sort of ache and a strange tingling sensation that cancelled out any soreness he might’ve felt. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said. “I know a spell for that.”  
   
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jared said. “Just feels a bit funny. Full. Good, though.”  
   
“How about this?” Jensen asked innocently as he twisted his fingers, rubbing them along the inside of Jared’s rim and upwards, his touch exploratory, as if seeking…  
   
“ _Oh!_ ”  
   
“Yeah,” Jensen stated, looking supremely smug, the bastard, as Jared was sure he saw stars burst before his eyes.  
   
“What… _was_ that?”  
   
“Your sweet spot,” Jensen murmured against his mouth, those fingers of his rubbing that spot insistently now, slow and steady, making sweat break out all over Jared’s body as his breath hitched in his chest, as his cock hardened even more, as his eyes practically rolled back in his head when he moaned his pleasure. “Knew you’d be loud when we did this,” Jensen said, leaning up to admire his handiwork. “S’one of the things I love best about you; you never hold back your feelings.”  
   
“Jensen…”  
   
“D’you like this, Jared?” he asked, his voice getting a bit hoarse. “You like my fingers inside you?” Jared’s hole clenched involuntarily and Jensen gasped, his fingers twitching pleasurably. “Yeah, just like that, babe.” Jared whimpered as Jensen kept up his torturous ministrations, alternately soothing him and riling him up before he finally pulled out and shifted his body, settling once again into the vee of Jared’s legs until Jared felt the hard, sleek heat of Jensen’s cock nudge against his balls.  
   
“Jensen, please.”  
   
“Hang on, I’ve got you.” He reached between their bodies and took a hold of his cock, slicked its length with that spell of his, and lined it up, until the smooth, wet tip of it rested against Jared’s hole like the worst sort of tease ever. “You good to go?”  
   
Jared nodded frantically. “You lead, I’ll follow.”  
   
Jensen huffed out a laugh and pushed inside him, the intrusion languid and relentless and breathtaking. It ached in a heady sort of way, skin on skin but so different from the way their bare bodies rubbed together; this…this was _sublime_. Jared sighed, deep and satisfied when Jensen sunk into him, fully sheathed in the heat of his body as he gasped into the side of Jared’s neck. Jared, who had thus far had his hands in a death grip on Jensen’s arms, moved them now, circling them around Jensen’s lithe back and holding on tightly, holding Jensen to him.  
   
“Merlin, you feel so good inside me, Jensen,” Jared confessed in an awed whisper. “I feel stuffed so full, like I can’t possibly take any more, but I want more all the same.”  
   
“It’s pretty fucking smashing from my end, too,” Jensen teased laughingly.  
   
“Kiss me,” Jared pleaded, mindless now, and Jensen was quick to obey, pressing soft, sucking kisses to Jared’s eager mouth as he started to pump in and out of his willing body. “Don’t stop…” Jared gasped when Jensen pulled away to suck in a shaky breath. “Jensen! Fuck, don’t ever stop.”  
   
“Never,” Jensen promised, kissing him again, pushing Jared’s thighs open wider as he fucked into him, frenzied and frantic, before he slowed the pace with a steady grinding roll of his hips as he drove in deep, as if he wanted to sink right into Jared and stay there for an eternity. When he inched his hand between their bodies and fisted it around Jared’s cock, pumping it in the same rhythm that he was pounding into him, it drove Jared completely delirious with the need to come.  
   
There was no finesse to what they were doing, but it felt amazing, and he could feel it with every fibre of his being: the sloppy ease of their kisses, the slick drag and friction of Jensen’s cock inside him, the sharp shock of pleasure whenever he hit that sweet spot, the aching brilliance at the base of his spine as his orgasm built in perfect accord with the strokes of Jensen’s body, and suddenly, Jared was gasping for breath, his arms flailing a bit as he struggled for purchase and found it, grasping the cheeks of Jensen’s arse and squeezing tight, making Jensen grind down into him, deeper and more deliberately.  
   
As Jensen sucked on Jared's tongue, this time matching the motion to the languid roll of his hips, Jared gave his arse another squeeze, spreading his cheeks a bit and reaching into the crease with his fingers; he couldn’t help but rub them against Jensen’s hole. It had Jensen rearing back, jolting with pleasure, his green eyes dark with lust as he panted, his chest heaving against Jared’s.  
   
“Fuck! Do that again.”  
   
Jared was powerless to resist his plea. Instead, he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked on two of his fingers, getting them nice and wet as Jensen’s movements stuttered and his eyes goggled. “We Hufflepuffs don’t have a spell for that.”  
   
“I’ll teach you mine in the morning,” Jensen vowed, tracking the movement of Jared’s fingers as they went in and out of his mouth, until Jared moved his hand out of Jensen’s sight and behind him, stroking across his hole, wetting it before pushing inside.  
   
Jensen bucked into him, uncannily hitting that spot inside Jared, making Jared cant up his hips wildly, taking whatever Jensen had to give and begging for more. Jensen growled, pinning him down until he was rutting feverishly into Jared’s body, feral and brutal, and just as hard and fast as Jared’s orgasm suddenly hit him, his hole clenching around Jensen’s cock, milking it and wringing Jensen’s orgasm from him, too, as they both came, one after the other, breathless and blissful.  
   
Seemingly hours later, but only a minute or two according to the clock by their bedside, Jensen raised his head from where it’d landed against the side of Jared’s neck, and blinked down at him, sated and lazy, like he’d worn himself out. “Not too shabby for our first time, eh?”  
   
Jared chuckled. “It was bloody fucking brilliant, Jensen. When can we do it again?”  
   
“Cheeky.” Jensen yawned, wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow and gently eased his now-spent cock out of Jared. “Give me a few minutes.”  
   
“Go on then,” Jared said, heaving a rather tragic sigh. “I s’pose I’ll have to get used to it. You being so ancient and all.”  
   
“You’re not so big that I can’t take you over my knee and give you a good spanking, brat.”  
   
“Ooh. Promise?” Jared teased, as Jensen choked on his shock. Jared laughed and pulled him close, winding both his arms and legs around him as he pulled the duvet over them and kissed Jensen’s sweaty temple. “I wonder if a _Rennervate_ spell would serve my purpose better?”  
   
“You could try it, I suppose,” Jensen drawled, idly kissing Jared’s chin, “but then I’d be forced to counter with a _Rictusempra_.” Jared’s entire body shuddered at the thought and Jensen snorted. “I love how the mere mention of the Tickling Charm gets you twitching.”  
   
“Wanker.”  
   
“Not any more, cheers.” Jensen smirked. “No need to wank now that I’ve got you around to service me.” Jared sputtered in righteous indignation, this time smacking Jensen on his pretty arse. Jensen laughed. “Now, for your next lesson…”  
   
“There’s more?”  
   
“Oh, babe…abso-fucking-lutely.”  
   
“Oh. Brilliant. So, next lesson?”  
   
“Let’s just say…my mouth, your cock. Or vice versa, whatever. Both work for me.”  
   
“Yeah. Whatever.” Jared gulped as his head was suddenly flooded by the most deliciously mind-boggling, cock-hardening images. “That works for me too.”

 

                                                                                            

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

                                             

 

Great Aunt Augusta and Neville were the first official visitors to their flat, and though they came bearing gifts, the strained, pinched expressions on their faces gave Jared pause. He immediately wondered if Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice had taken a turn for the worse, but he hesitated to ask. Thankfully, Jensen had no such qualms.  
   
“Why the long faces?” he asked after a few minutes of tense silence.  
   
Great Aunt Augusta shot Neville a sharp look and his shoulders slumped a bit, but he spoke anyway. “You’ve heard about Cedric Diggory’s death, yeah?”  
   
“’Course,” Jared answered, sharing a worried look with Jensen, “it was all over the papers. Seemed like a nice lad. It’s a tragedy, what happened.”  
   
Jensen huffed irritably. “Tragic, yes, but it’s insanely ridiculous to have a _student_ die at Hogwarts. I still don’t know how ‘accidents’ like that can happen in the presence of some of the most powerful wizards in the world.”  
   
“That’s just it, you see, it _wasn’t_ an accident,” Neville started, just as Great Aunt Augusta swatted his knuckles with the handle of her umbrella.  
   
“That’s enough of that.”  
   
“It’s true, though,” Neville insisted, grimacing and rubbing his hand. “If Harry says that’s what happened… If the _Headmaster_ said it…then it’s true. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”  
   
“What on earth are you on about, mate?” Jensen asked before Jared could even open his mouth.  
   
“It’s… It’s You-Know-Who,” Neville confessed in a frightened little whisper. “He’s _back_.”

                                                                                          

   
“Are you ever going to talk to me about these nightmares you keep having?” Jensen asked gently, kissing Jared’s sweaty brow. “I’m so worried about you, babe.”  
   
“It’s because of what happened at the World Cup, Jensen, you know that.” Jared sighed softly. “It’s just gotten worse after what Neville told us.”  
   
“Is that _all_ it is?” Jensen stared into his eyes, and who knew what he saw there. “You call out my name a lot; you’re yelling at me…telling me that I dare not die and leave you. You sound so scared. And really young. Like a child.”  
   
Jared’s eyes filled with useless tears and he couldn’t do a bloody thing to stop them; he hadn’t realized he’d been so vocal. “Jensen.”  
   
“Talk to me. Trust me to keep you safe.”  
   
“And who’s going to keep _you_ safe?” Jared asked, practically shouting as he tried to shove Jensen away. He failed, of course; Jensen just hung on tighter. “I froze out there, Jensen! They set you _on fire_ and I _froze!_ How ruddy ironic is that?”  
   
“Is that what’s been bothering you all this while?”  
   
Jared nodded, his heart wrenching in his chest. “Sometimes…I think I remember the day my dad died.” Jensen pressed a kiss to his temple, soft and loving, silently urging him to keep talking. “I remember…smoke and fire. Great Aunt Callie said that the Death Eaters who killed them, my dad and the Prewetts, she said they razed the house. The walls were scorched and the smell of smoke just leached into everything.” Jared sniffed, snatches of images flickering through his mind, doused in flame, distorted and scary. “Did I ever tell you that she moved away after that? Because _I_ was having nightmares? She sold the house that she and Great Uncle Harfang bought after they got married. Their children grew up there, and she just picked up and left because of me. She bought a little cottage near Great Aunt Augusta’s just so I wouldn’t grow up next door to the constant reminder of everything I’d lost.” Jared found Jensen’s hand and twined their fingers together, needing to anchor himself to the man he loved. “Everyone’s always protected me. My dad, the Longbottoms, _you_. All my life. That night…at the campsite, it was my turn. There were children there, Jensen. Young kids who couldn’t even cast a spell yet and I did _nothing!_ ”  
   
“Jared.” Jensen heaved a shuddering sigh. “Do you honestly think you were the only one there who was afraid? Because you weren’t, babe. Besides, I took Advanced Defence classes at Connemara; you know me, I just did it for the hell of it. But my professor was a bit on the barmy side and put us through drills as part of our exams. I just reacted. That’s all. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t as scared as you were; believe me when I tell you that. I was terrified.”  
   
“But you still protected all those people.”  
   
“I was protecting… _you_ ,” Jensen said, as if admitting to some grave, guilty secret. “That was my only instinct. Everything else I did was just a lucky coincidence, because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I’m a bit selfish and possessive when it comes to you. You’re mine, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone take you away from me.”  
   
Jared’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, utterly gobsmacked by Jensen’s confession. “From the moment I met you…”  
   
“Until the moment I draw my last breath,” Jensen finished, and it sounded like a vow, “I will _always_ protect you.” 

 

                                                                                       

   
The terror left in the wake of Neville’s words didn’t abate; _wouldn’t_ , not even a day or a week or a month later. Jensen and Jared had both scoffed at it at first, dismissing the very notion of the Dark Lord rising from the dead as absurd; it was a natural reaction, Neville claimed; everyone at Hogwarts had already been there, done that, and traversed the quagmire from denial to acceptance to sheer dread at what the future may hold now.  
   
Again, like with the World Cup riots, there seemed to be no tension in the air, no sense of fear and panic; perhaps it was because they lived so far away from London, but Jared thought it was more because the entire wizarding population, including those who worked at the Ministry, had blinders on and only saw what they wanted to see.  
   
In Jared’s case, and Jensen’s as well – of that he was certain – Dumbledore’s word was good enough. So they went about their daily lives, but they never strayed far from each other’s sides, and Jared listened and learned intently as Jensen started teaching him the trickier and more powerful protective and duelling spells he’d picked up in his Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts classes at Connemara.  
   
But even though they stayed vigilant, they were anything but prepared for the first threat. It figured then, that the one time they’d gone their separate ways, to run silly little errands of all things, was also the beginning of the end for them.  
 

                                                                                       

Jared Apparated into the kitchen and had already started putting away the week’s shopping before he heard raised voices filter through from the living room. He whipped his wand out and walked out of the kitchen, casting a charm to cushion his steps as he gingerly approached the living room.  
   
At first he’d thought the voices belonged to just Jensen and another man, but many voices were speaking now, all at once, until a raised male voice shouted for quiet; the effect was immediate silence. Jared went with his gut instinct and Disillusioned himself, coming to stand at the edge of the doorway, just close enough for him to peek inside.  
   
It was Jensen, all right, and the other people in the room were the rest of his family.  
   
Jared heaved a silent sigh of relief. Nothing dangerous, then; hopefully Jensen’s family had come to mend their fences. He was about to turn and leave and give Jensen his privacy, when Jensen’s father’s words made him freeze in his tracks.  
   
“You _are_ coming with us, Jensen, and that is final,” Alan Ackles said in a tone that brooked no argument; even Jared could tell that, and he’d never met the man before.  
   
“Nothing is ever final, Father,” Jensen drawled, his voice so filled with contempt that Jared barely recognized it. He knew Jensen and his dad had their issues, but Jensen’s tone alone spoke volumes about just how strained their relationship really was. Served Jensen’s dad right for disowning him, Jared thought, and for nothing more than wanting to follow his dreams.  
   
“Jensen, you’re not stupid,” Alan tried to reason, “you know what’s out there! I’ve known Albus all my life and I trust him. It’s madness to stay.”  
   
“You disinherited me, Father! Or did that conveniently slip your mind?” Jensen scoffed. “Because I can assure you, I haven’t forgotten that conversation.”  
   
“You cannot possibly have expected me to condone your relationship with another _man!_ ” Alan exclaimed, blustering and red-faced as Jared barely managed to stifle his gasp of shock; he Silenced himself, just in case. “I told you, Jensen. I understand. We Ravenclaws have always appreciated beauty in all things, regardless of form or gender. But when we _marry_ , we do so in a manner that behoves our bloodlines! Your Half-Blood wizard friend does not fit into our family! If you’d agreed to keep him on, as one would a mistress on the side, and married Danneel like I told you to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”  
   
As Jared reeled in shock, Jensen smiled, if you could call it that, because for the first time ever, Jared found the look on Jensen’s face abrasive and ugly. “Which brings us rather handily to my original point: If Jared doesn’t _fit_ into our family, then neither do I, and for the last time, do not insult either Jared or Danneel like that in my presence again, Father; I won’t be held accountable for my words or actions if you do!” He drew in a deep breath, as if striving for calm. “You can say and do what you want, but I am not a coward. I refuse to run and hide in Australia again while Death Eaters ravage my homeland and murder innocent people who can’t defend themselves, either with magic or without! That is not who I am!”  
   
“A coward?” Alan asked, grimacing and looking almost exactly like Jensen had just a moment ago. “Is that what you think of me?”  
   
“I understand why you took us all to Sydney during the First Wizarding War – we were kids then, you had to protect us all – but now? We’re grown. We’re Ravenclaws! We’re _Ackleses!_ We’re powerful and gifted with wizarding skills that others don’t possess! We can stand and fight, so what’s your excuse this time?”  
   
“ _I don’t need a bloody excuse better than that!_ ” Alan roared, his wife and daughter cringing on his left while Joshua put a hand on his father’s right shoulder to calm him; Alan just shook it off and glared at Jensen. “We Ackleses have had a long history with the Ministry, with the Wizengamot, with _Britain!_ It’s our job to take care of the Magical community, to be there to rebuild it every time it falls to ruin. If we were to fall too, then who would that job go to? Who would you trust to do it as well as we do? As we _have_ done in the past?”  
   
Jensen looked flummoxed. “So essentially, we’re the ones who sit back and watch Good and Evil wreak havoc on each other, and the whole bloody nation while they’re at it, and then we help whatever side emerges victorious to _rebuild_ Britain?”  
   
Alan’s expression was doggedly resigned. “It’s a nasty job, but it must be entrusted to someone worthy of doing it well.”  
   
“Bloody hell!” Jensen snorted scornfully. “Let me try cold, hard logic to reason with you, Father, since I appear to be failing on the warm and fuzzy ethical front.” He pointed between Joshua, Mackenzie and himself. “We were each the top student at Hogwarts when we graduated. We all excelled at Connemara. We each had triple majors and no one ever does that unless they are an over-achieving member of this family! Joshua with Wizarding Law, Charms and Transfiguration – just like you! Mackenzie with Potions and Law and Arithmancy! And I, ‘the most brilliant of them all’,” he drawled, “isn’t that what you always used to say, Father? I took Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Alchemy, with a side of Herbology in my spare time! I’m sure that if I wasn’t playing Quidditch, too, I’d’ve had time for a couple more!” Jensen scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “With you and Mother, we’re some of the most powerful witches and wizards in the country, and instead of staying to help, we’re hiding! How is that fair to our fellow citizens? The ones we’re supposed to come back and rebuild for? It’s not going to do much good if they’re all dead!”  
   
“You remind me so much of Artemis sometimes, it scares me,” Alan said softly, and Jensen’s mother gasped. Jensen and his siblings looked a bit bewildered at the seeming non sequitur, so Alan took a deep breath and explained. “He was just like you. Took umbrage at the fact that the rest of us wanted to leave for Sydney. Said we needed to stay and fight. Those were his very words.”  
   
“Sounds like a smart man,” Jensen remarked dryly.  
   
“He was.” Alan nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “So very bright. Brilliant actually, and so personable. Everyone adored him; the family doted on him. He was always going on about how illogical it was to run away. He wanted to stay, you see, and I, as the head of the family, refused.”  
   
Jensen snorted. “My, how history has a way of repeating itself.”  
   
Alan shot him a sharp, quelling look and Jensen had enough respect for his father to hold his tongue. “The thing about very intelligent wizards, though,” Alan ventured quietly, “is that they can be swayed by logic. And Artemis was…” He choked up a bit and Donna Ackles left her daughter’s side to take his hand in hers, silently supportive; Jared didn’t know if Alan squeezed her hand in return, but it felt like he would’ve, like he needed her to lean on in what seemed to be a moment of weakness for him as he studied his middle son. “You know the Houses of Ravenclaw and Slytherin have always had an understanding; Artemis had many friends in Slytherin, and when he left school, he stayed in touch, got closer to them, became influenced by, first their doctrines, and then, their deeds.” Alan heaved a sigh, one that spoke of suffering and regret and his three children were now listening intently, as if none of them had heard him speak of this before, Jared mused. His suspicions were confirmed in the next instant.  
   
“Alan…”  
   
“No, Donna,” he told his wife, “it’s high time they knew the truth.” He looked to his children again. “It was slow, Artemis’s transformation. So steady that none of us noticed it until it was too late. Until he started saying things about preserving our Pure-Blood heritage by means other than marriage. He’d once joked – if you could call it that – about murder being a viable option.” He paused when Mackenzie gasped, Joshua and Jensen just staring at their father in shock. “Oh yes,” he confirmed. “Then he started preaching about the preservation of our bloodlines by ridding the region of Muggles, or relegating them to what he referred to as ‘concentration camps’ – apparently in keeping with You-Know-Who’s agenda at the time – treating them worse than slaves, really; treating them like livestock.”  
   
“Merlin,” Joshua breathed, looking absolutely horrified, and Alan nodded.  
   
“He told me once that there could only be one truly logical outcome of the war since the Dark Lord was far more powerful than any other wizard in existence, even more so than Dumbledore, and we – the rest of the Magical community had to face that truth, and prepare to embrace the reality of it.” Alan laughed, and the sound of it was derisive and self-deprecating. “Even then I tried to make excuses for him. But one night, he arrived at the Manor much later than usual; I’d been waiting up for him… That’s when I saw his ‘truth’ with my own eyes: the robes he still wore, the mask in his hand. I grabbed his left arm and pulled up his sleeve before he could say or do anything to stop me and I saw the Dark Mark there and the world as I knew it came to a standstill.”  
   
“Father,” Jensen choked out, but Alan held up a hand to stop him from saying another word.  
   
“We had the most awful row. Woke everyone in the house except for the children, all of you and your cousins. Said we wanted nothing more to do with him if he didn’t renounce his allegiance to the Death Eaters. He refused – vehemently – and I kicked him out.” Alan paused, breathing shakily as his eyes filled with tears. “A week later, after word from one of my sisters who’d gone to try and reason with him, and ended up spying on his dealings with another Death Eater instead, we found out that he was being taken to task. They’d demanded an act of fealty from him; an initiation, if you will. It took us a while, but we found him later that night, with two others, masked and murderous, terrorizing a Muggle family – parents, grandparents, _children_ – torturing them with the Cruciatus Curse, making them do hideous things to one another under the Imperius Curse, and taking _pleasure_ in it.” He choked on a sob and Donna wrapped her arms around him, crying silent tears herself.  
   
Just as Jared was.  
   
“My sisters and I killed them that night. All three of them. And we were forced to kill two of the Muggles who’d been too tortured for us to revive, driven out of their minds with madness and excruciating pain; it was more merciful to end their suffering.” Alan’s wand slid into his hand from where it’d been tucked into his sleeve. “I killed my baby brother, and two innocent bystanders, with these hands, and this wand, and I’ve never forgiven myself for it!” He turned red-rimmed, pleading eyes up to Jensen’s face. “If only I’d left sooner. If only I hadn’t indulged a well-loved brother. Don’t make me make the same mistake twice, Jensen. Just let me do my job and protect my family. Please. I beg you! I’m _begging_ you _…_ ”  
   
His words broke the dam of his tears and he crumpled in on himself as his children went to catch him before he fell to his knees, all five of them holding on tight as they wept as one.  
   
Jared, tears blurring his vision and running a river down his face, silently turned and walked away.  
 

                                                                                        

   
When the moment for goodbyes came, it was sort of anticlimactic.  
   
“Jared…”  
   
“I know. I already know. I heard everything.”  
   
“I have to do this. I can’t leave my father like this, nor can I abandon my family.”  
   
“I understand, Jensen. I don’t like it but I understand. Family should always come first. Trust me when I tell you that; it means so much more when you don’t have a family to call your own.”  
   
“I’m sorry.”  
   
“Don’t be. You’ve taught me well. I can defend myself. It’s about time I stood on my own two feet anyway.”  
   
“What the bloody hell are you talking about? I want you to come with me!”  
   
“To Australia?”  
   
“No, to the North _Bloody_ Pole! Of course, to Australia!”  
   
“I… I can’t.”  
   
“What? Why not?”  
   
“Jensen. Besides you, the only people who’ve been like family to me are still here. You – you can do anything, with or without me. Neville and Great Aunt Augusta – they need me. I can’t abandon them anymore that you can abandon your own flesh and…blood.”  
   
“Is that what this is about? Blood heritage? I don’t care about that, Jared – I care about you!”  
   
“I…care about you, too. And I know you’ll be safe, so I’m not going to worry, and you shouldn’t either. You can count on me to take care of myself. You can go with a clear conscience.”  
   
“You’re an idiot if you think I can do that.”  
   
“I think that’s a given, sometimes.”  
   
“Jared, please.”  
   
“No. I can’t go and you can’t stay. We’re at an impasse, and the only solution is to go our separate ways. Basic Beater strategy, you know that.”  
   
“Please don’t hate me for this.”  
   
“I won’t. Who knows? It might all be over in a few months, and you’ll be back. I’ll wait.”  
   
“You’ll _wait_ for me? Do you promise?”  
   
“I promise. You know I’m nothing without you. You are, and always will be, the bane of my existence.”  
   
“You… You are, and always will be… _the love of my life_.”  
   
   
They’d both been crying by then, souls as bruised and broken as their voices as they’d clung to each other one last time, kissing as if they’d rather die than break apart, before Jensen wrenched himself away – always the stronger one – and Disapparated from Jared’s life, leaving him standing alone in the heart of what used to be their home.  
   
  


                                                                                          

 

Life went on. Time and tide and all that drivel. Jared went on with it.  
   
After the Battle of the Department of Mysteries - as Neville called it anyway - and as a favour to Great Aunt Augusta, who’d had to go to St. Mungo’s, Jared accompanied Neville to Ollivander’s to purchase a new wand before the start of his Sixth Year, to replace the one that’d been broken in battle. They’d spent a goodly bit of time outside the shop, Neville struggling with himself as Jared stood by his side, steady and comforting and _there._  
   
“I’m sorry,” Neville muttered.  
   
Jared shook his head. “Take as long as you like, mate. I’ve got nowhere better to be.”  
   
“It’s just that…”  
   
“I know,” Jared assured him gruffly, “I felt the same way about my dad’s old Nimbus. It was hard to give it up, but it’s still in one piece in the corner of my room where I can see it any time I want. And this was your dad’s _wand_. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to lose it.”  
   
“Feels like shite.”  
   
“Sounds about right.” Jared gave him a lopsided smile. “But every wizard needs a wand, and it’s time to let yours choose you.”  
   
“Is it true that you feel a connection when you touch the wand meant for you? Like a bond of sorts?”  
   
“Yes, absolutely, although I think _what_ you feel depends on the wand’s capabilities, too. I felt a tingling sort of warmth, like being submerged into a peppermint bubble bath. Jensen…” Jared stopped suddenly, wondering if he’d ever be able to let Jensen go and have a normal conversation without somehow bringing him into it, even now, over a year after he’d left. But Neville was staring at him, both brows raised innocently, so he cleared his throat and continued. “Jensen said for him it felt like he’d been struck by the gentlest bolt of lightning.”  
   
“Wow.” Neville’s eyes goggled a bit. “All I felt with my dad’s wand was a sense of belonging, really. Which was pretty good, I suppose. I miss that feeling.” He blinked rapidly, as if his eyes were prickling with tears. “What’s yours made of?”  
   
“Willow, with a unicorn hair core, fourteen inches. Pretty little thing, innit?” Jared said, pulling it out so Neville could see it. A sudden memory sparked in his mind then, of a hushed conversation in the alcove under the basement stairs at Hogwarts, on a night long ago, after Jensen had rescued him from the fight in the boy’s bathroom. “I remember Jensen telling me about wandlore once, when we were still at school. I was eleven; he was thirteen.”  
   
“Wandlore in his _third_ year?” Neville asked in surprise. “He sounds a bit like Hermione.”  
   
“Classic over-achiever, I know. He’s always had this uncanny ability to remember the weirdest things,” Jared recalled fondly. “Always had his head in a book. He’d miniaturize them; carry them around in his pockets like I used to carry Muggle marbles. I used to think it was a Ravenclaw thing, but now I’m certain it’s a Jensen thing; he still did it when we lived together... Anyway, I was scared and lonely and being picked on by boys bigger than me and he took me aside and told me he’d teach me some simple shielding spells. When I pulled out my wand, he asked me about it; he said you could tell a lot about a person by the sort of wand they had. He said that wands made of willow always chose an owner with the most potential to do great things, and, when coupled with a unicorn hair core, they produce very consistent, dependable magic, and they’re the most faithful of wands, even if they aren’t the most powerful.” Jared smiled ruefully. “He also said the reason my spell work was weak was because _I_ wasn’t happy, and that’s how the unicorn hair core works, it picks up on its owner’s emotions, their strengths and weaknesses. I think that’s when he decided, in his own, _unique_ way, to make me happy. To keep me happy.”   
   
“You miss him a lot, don’t you?”  
   
“Like I would miss my Magic if I lost it,” Jared admitted past the sudden lump in his throat.  
   
“Yeah,” Neville mumbled knowingly, sniffling a bit. “Did he ever show you his wand?” A startled laugh escaped Jared, quite against his will, and Neville turned beet red, elbowing Jared in the stomach. “Shut up! You know what I meant!”  
   
“Yeah, all right,” Jared said, still chuckling. “He did; he used to brag about it in school, and threaten me with it whenever I was being particularly annoying.” Jared grinned at the memories zipping through his head. “He’s got a blackthorn wand, which is really unusual, so of course Jensen thought he was special, meant for greatness, fame and fortune, or something equally obnoxious. It’s long, too, thirteen and a half inches, and sturdy, gnarled; a man’s wand, he used to tell me, unlike my smooth and slender ‘girly’ one. _And_ it’s got a dragon heartstring core, which is probably the most powerful one of all, which just adds to his delusions of wand-induced grandeur.” Neville laughed and Jared joined in as the scene he’d witnessed with Jensen’s family flashed through his mind again; he sighed. “He said that the blackthorn was a wicked tree, sharp thorns but sweet berries; it made wands for warriors, and it was up to you to decide whether to use it for good or evil.”  
   
“What did Jensen use his for?”  
   
“Mostly evil, when it came to me.” Jared blinked, and brought forth thoughts of happier times; he smirked playfully. “Merlin, I swear he invented ingenious new ways to torture me with Tickling Charms.”  
   
“It’s sort of a rite of passage, isn’t it?” Neville remarked thoughtfully, finally looking through the front windows of Ollivander’s. “Getting a wand?”  
   
“Absolutely,” Jared agreed. “Don’t deprive yourself of it. And don’t mourn the loss of your dad’s wand, not when it served him so well, not when it was there for his son when he couldn’t be.” Tears sprang into Neville’s eyes and Jared reached out to give him a reassuring hug. “It’s time for you to find one that serves _your_ purpose.”  
   
“And if that purpose is revenge?” Neville asked, pulling away as he looked Jared in the eye, his voice tremulous but with an underlying hint of steel.  
   
“Then so be it.”  
   
   
Turned out, the wand that chose Neville was cherry – a wood that made for wands of truly lethal power – but one with a unicorn hair core. Jared hoped that, when the time came to stand and fight, that core would temper the dangerous nature of the wood, and the vengeful spirit of its wizard.  
   
As all great wands were meant to do when the witch or wizard wielding them was worthy of their power.  
   
All bets were off, however, when, less than a year later, the great Albus Dumbledore was murdered by Severus Snape, sending the entire Magical world reeling in shock as it braced itself for the coming of the next Wizarding War.  
 

                                                                                           


	9. Chapter 9

  
  
_Jensen, to Jared, because he was: A: A prat, B: Not funny, C: An idiot, D: Not forgiven, or E: All of the above. As when Jared was writing exams at Hogwarts, when in doubt, it’s probably best to go with E._

                                                                                      

 

When Ned died, Florence fluttered and burst into flower, but then she stilled, as if in mourning for her gruff little companion; Daphne just tucked her yellow head in between Florence’s branches and stayed there, silent.  
   
Jared was beside himself, and he missed Jensen so fiercely in that moment that all the love he had inside him roiled and churned into something that felt a lot like hate, because Jensen should’ve been there with him, to share the loss, to help him heal, and yet, continents and oceans separated them and Jared hadn’t felt this lonely since he’d first started at Hogwarts.  
   
The idea came to him when he conveyed the news to Neville: Ned needed a burial. Neville understood; he’d had Trevor once and toads made excellent companions, no matter what anyone else said. Great Aunt Augusta had scoffed when he’d told her – which was a better reaction than what he’d gotten from the team (outright laughter and pitying _get-a-life-mate_ looks) – but her hard expression had softened a bit when he mentioned that Ned had found him at Great Aunt Callie’s funeral; she’d been buried next to Great Uncle Harfang, in the same cemetery as Jared’s parents.  
   
Perhaps she’d seen things in his own eyes that Jared had been afraid to say. Like how he’d never been to his parents’ gravesides since that day, and how he felt something calling to him now, an aching loneliness, a sadness that grew inside him like an ever-widening abyss. She told him then that the house his parents had lived in had been remodelled and resold by the Ministry almost immediately, the Muggle neighbours Obliviated, and the proceeds from the sale deposited into Jared’s meagre account at Gringotts; it’d been that money, and the tiny sum Great Aunt Callie had left him, that had helped him afford Hogwarts and the living of life in between school.  
   
The trip to Newlyn had been bittersweet. He couldn’t remember much of having lived there before, but snatches of memories came to him, especially when he’d left the cemetery – he’d buried Ned next to his dad, in a hole deep enough that he wouldn’t be dug up by scavengers or float up with the rains – and walked along the nearby streets, up the road to the house where he’d been born. The memories were the strongest there, because he knew that house, knew it because it’d haunted his dreams as a child, its once pristine white walls scorched from flame and smoke.  
   
Now, it looked like someone’s home, and he was startled out of his staring by the friendly owners who’d been out in their garden; a family of three, a couple and their baby daughter, a lovely cherub who’d smiled and cooed up at him and held onto his finger with a grip that belied her age.  
   
“You used to live here, you say?” the man asked him when he mentioned it. “Your name wouldn’t be – what was that name again, love? Pada-something?”  
   
“Padalecki?” Jared blinked in surprise. “ _I’m_ Jared Padalecki.”  
   
“Yes, that’s it!” the woman remarked, all smiles. “Someone’s been looking for you, sweetheart. A solicitor. He left his card – oh, ages ago now. I kept it, though…”  
   
“She never throws anything out,” her husband said with a fond smile, and she swatted him on the shoulder before beckoning Jared in through the gate.  
   
“Why don’t you come in and have a spot of tea with us while I look for it, Jared? You can play with Corinne; she’s obviously completely enamoured with you.”  
   
It didn’t even occur to him how momentous that instant was until his foot crossed over the threshold and into his childhood home, but when he left an hour later, it was with a lighter heart and a spring in his step, and when he Apparated back into his flat in Falmouth to find Rogue and Penny waiting for him, along with that little note from Jensen that said so much more than the words on the page, his grief, while not gone yet, didn’t feel quite as crushing as it had before.  
 

                                                                                             

   
“Misha, you touch me again, and I’ll hex your bollocks off!”  
   
Jared was standing, wand out and menacingly aimed at Misha’s lap as he roared the words, stunning the room into silence. He was breathing heavily, his blood boiling with anger, and in the corner of the room, Genevieve burst into tears; Kim glared daggers at them.  
   
“I will stick my wand up the arse of the next person who says another word, and cast a Furnunculus Curse! See how you’d like having massive boils in _there!_ ” she exclaimed angrily. “What the bloody hell is the matter with you two?”  
   
“Fuck off and stay out of this, bitch!” Misha shouted right back at her, with little concern for his life, obviously, because before Jared could even take umbrage at the insult to her, Kim was facing off against Misha herself, wielding her wand like a weapon.  
   
“Just because you’ve tried and failed – _pathetically_ , I might add – to bang him in Jensen’s absence, doesn’t mean you get to harass him all the time, you manky bastard! Get a fucking life!”  
   
“How about I just take yours instead?” Misha yelled, at the same time that Beaver and Williams both bellowed Disarming spells.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”  
   
Kim’s and Misha’s wands landed in Beaver’s and Williams’ outstretched hands respectively as everyone froze; the threat of a Killing Curse tended to do that to normal people just enjoying what’d started out as a quiet evening in. Even Gen had stopped bawling, her eyes wide with disbelief; Sheppard had ceased rocking back and forth as he sat on the floor by the hearth, muttering nonsense, his knees drawn up to his chest; and Cindy’d finally turned away from staring at the potted palm next to her in an endless, morbid fascination. The others either looked liked someone had died or someone was going to die, and by their hand.  
   
It made no sense whatsoever.  
   
“Something’s very wrong here,” Jared muttered, more to himself than to the others.  
   
“You think, y’idjit?” Beaver scoffed. “There’s Dark Magic afoot.”  
   
“Having Death Eaters near us wouldn’t make us feel like this,” Williams pointed out. “They’re a lot less subtle; we’d probably all be dead by now.”  
   
As far as Jared was concerned, he knew of only one thing that sucked the joy and life out of their surroundings. “Dementors,” he breathed, completely unashamed of his terror as everyone gasped in horror.  
   
“No!” Misha exclaimed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “They’re the guards at Azkaban! Why would they…?”  
   
“Bloody hell, Misha,” Kim growled. “Read the bloody paper once in a while! The Dementors aren’t the Ministry’s little minions anymore!”  
   
“Shut it, you lot!” Cohan yelled as she and Devine made their way downstairs, some of the other players trailing after them, Jake sporting what looked to be the beginnings of a black eye while Sebastian’s nose was bleeding profusely and Katie was rubbing her bruised knuckles. Aldis huffed and went to help them out with his efficient healing spells; he wasn’t their new captain for nothing. Well, Jared thought, at least those of them who’d stayed downstairs hadn’t come to blows. He pointedly ignored the fact that Misha and Kim had almost killed one another; they had bigger problems right now. Cohan looked at him. “You’re right. About the Dementors.”  
   
Devine nodded, and a chill went down Jared’s spine. “I saw them from the windows.”  
   
“ _Them?_ ” Sheppard suddenly asked, standing up and looking around shiftily. Gone was their stalwart coach of old; he looked like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours.  
   
“At least three of them,” Devine confirmed, “slinking along the street on the north side of the building.”  
   
“Bugger me,” Sheppard whispered, looking really fucking frightened. He hugged his arms around himself and started rocking in place. “They’re coming for me. They couldn’t get me before, so they’re coming for me now…”  
   
“What the hell are you talking about, man?” Williams asked, looking as bewildered as everyone else likely felt.  
   
Sheppard scrubbed a hand down his face and retreated as close to the fire as he could get. “They…they couldn’t carry out their sentence before,” he muttered. “The Ministry saved me, you see. New evidence was presented to the Wizengamot and I was finally proved innocent! That I was Imperiused when I…” He shook his head frantically, as if the memories were too much to bear. “The Dementors had to let me go before carrying out my sentence, before they could…take my soul with a Kiss.”  
   
There was at least a minute of pin-drop silence as everyone digested the information and reeled from the horror of it. When they did recover, many voices rang out, but Misha’s was the loudest. “Let’s kill him,” he said, his eyes feverish and his voice reedy and scared. “Then they’ll go away and leave us alone!”  
   
“Bollocks,” Beaver grumbled in disgust, rolling his eyes as he pointed his wand straight at Misha’s back. “ _Stupefy_!” Misha crumpled like a limp noodle; no one bothered to catch him but the floor. “We’ll pick him up later,” Beaver muttered. “For now, Steven, Loretta – get a read on the location of those soul-sucking dishrags out there, and ward all the windows and doors while you’re at it. Jared, Jake, Seb – take the basement and do the same: Let’s seal and ward every way into this house. Lauren, Kim and I will take the upstairs; the rest of you lot – try not to kill each other.”  
   
They all moved to do his bidding, Beaver giving Kim a gruff smile and her wand back as he went, and she returned it with a playful smirk of her own; it had Jared’s mouth quirking up, too. Those two were not subtle.  
   
Luckily, warding the rest of the guest house didn’t take them very long, but the news waiting for them when they got back into the living room was anything but good.  
   
“There are more than three,” Williams said, and for the first time since he’d met him, Jared saw him look utterly defeated. “A _lot_ more.”  
   
“We saw more from upstairs, too,” Beaver confirmed. “Maybe a dozen.”  
   
Devine sighed, falling into an armchair as if she was a puppet whose strings’d just been cut. “Sounds about right.”  
   
The coaches stared at each other as Sheppard whimpered in the corner; then Cohan spoke. “What do we do? Who here can cast a Patronus?” A few hands went up, including Jared’s and hers. “One strong enough to keep a dozen Dementors away? Corporeal Patronuses?” Every raised hand lowered, and Jared shut his eyes against the despair building in his chest. “Right then,” Cohan declared. “We’re fucked.”  
   
“Maybe not,” Jared said, a sudden thought occurring to him. “Bunty!” he yelled out, and with a sharp, cracking sound, the Pride of Portee’s Visitor House’s house elf appeared before him.  
   
“Yes, sir?”  
   
“Bunty, we need your help, please.”  
   
“Of course, sir. Bunty is at your service, sir.”  
   
“Er…good.” Jared thought fast. “You wouldn’t be able to fight off Dementors, would you?”  
   
“Sir?” The elf’s lower lip wobbled and his eyes got shiny and goggled even more than was usual for house elves. “Sir is wanting Bunty to fight the Dementors all alone?” There was a split second before Bunty wailed and threw himself at Jared’s feet. “Please, sir, don’t send Bunty out there with the nasty Dementors! Please, sir!”  
   
“No!” Jared exclaimed, nearly tripping over Bunty’s prone body in his haste to get away from the grovelling little tyke. “I was just asking! We’d never expect you to fight off a dozen Dementors by yourself, Bunty!”  
   
“A dozen, sir?” Bunty asked tremulously. Jared nodded, trying to look calmer than he was feeling, but the elf was shaking his head anxiously. “More than twelve, sir. More like thirty!”  
   
Jared reined in his panic. “How do you know that?”  
   
“Bunty knows,” Bunty assured him, and Jared was more than willing to take his word for it.  
   
“Then we must send for help,” he said, thinking furiously, but when it came down to it, he really only had one choice. He pulled out his wand, conjured a piece of parchment into the palm of his hand, and got the Self-Inking Quill George’d given him on his last trip to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes from his pocket, scribbling down an address before he pressed it into Bunty’s hand. “There’s an Auror at this address who can help us. You must ask her to come quickly.”  
   
“Yes, sir. Bunty will bring help, sir.”  
   
“Thank you, Bunty. Go now, and hurry back!”  
   
When Bunty Disapparated, Jared found everyone staring at him in awe, but it was Beaver who spoke. “You have contacts at the Auror Office?”  
   
“There is no Auror Office anymore,” Jared told him. “But I do know some Order members; they’re the only ones who can help.”  
   
“Well,” Cohan drawled, “I’m glad at least one of us has friends in high places.” She sighed and looked overwhelmed. “Still not sure how one Auror can fend off so many Dementors, but at least I’ll feel a bit safer right before I die.”  
   
“Yeah,” Williams snorted. “It’s all good.”  
   
A whole bunch of them chuckled, and the grave atmosphere in the room lightened considerably. Jared smiled. “Keep those happy thoughts going.”  
   
“Good idea,” a wry male voice spoke from behind them, and all of them whirled around to face the newcomer, wands drawn.  
   
“Remus!” Jared laughed in relief as soon as he recognised him, going to hug the man, and watching as a streak of white smoke curled into the space beside them as Tonks Apparated into the room. “Tonks!”  
   
“Wotcher, Jared!” Tonks greeted him with a hug, her pregnant belly bumping into him before she did. Jared bit his lip in concern. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.  
   
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who else to call. The Weasleys are too far away,” Jared said, including Remus in his apology, but Tonks’ husband just shrugged and smiled. When Bunty materialized in the room a second later, bearing a big box of chocolate slabs in his skinny arms and then handing them out to everyone, Jared made quick work of the introductions.  
   
“Well, we’re here to help, not to worry,” Tonks reassured everyone. “And don’t you be sorry, mate.” She punched Jared’s arm. “I’m just glad you thought of us. Thirty-odd Dementors is a feat not even Remus and I can take on by ourselves, but we’ve sent word to the ADU.”  
   
Jared frowned. “The ADU?”  
   
“Used to be the Anti-Dementor Unit of the Auror Office,” Remus explained. “Now they work with the Order.”  
   
Tonks snorted. “They’re the happiest bunch of witches and wizards you’ll ever meet. Wonky, too, the lot of them.”  
   
Jared and the rest of the Falcons gaped at each other in disbelief – surely their very survival didn’t rest in the hands and wands of a bunch of weird wizards? – but before any of them could comment, the room filled with dense silvery-grey streaks of smoke. Jared’s pulse spiked in fear as seven cloaked and hooded figures appeared before them, every one of them bearing wands and large metallic shields of black and silver festooned with a whorl of silver smoke coiling in on itself in an unending, mesmerizing spiral.  
   
“Oh, excellent!” Jared heard Tonks exclaim beside him, but he paid her no mind, his eyes fixed on the Aurors in front of him as they whipped off their hoods as one, because suddenly, after more than two bloody years, he found himself, once again, face to face with _Jensen_.

                                                                                         

 

Time stopped.  
   
Jared was sure of it. He’d never experienced the like, but he was certain that this – as if the very flow of blood through his veins had ceased – was exactly what it felt like, and even though he wanted to yell and scream and pound Jensen into the floor with his fists and then pick him up and hug all the breath from his body, he found that he was frozen as he and Jensen stared at each other in shock.  
   
Then, of course, Jensen went and opened his big, bloody mouth.  
   
“Hello, Hufflepuff.”  
   
Jared punched him in his pretty face, broke his nose, fixed it with an _Episkey_ , and then punched him again, splitting his lip this time. Before he was quite done, he had the six wands of Jensen’s fellow Aurors pointed in his face, all of them practically frothing at the mouth in anger as Jensen held them off. Jared sneered and shrugged nonchalantly. “The Dementors made me do it.”  
   
To his eternal surprise, Jensen chuckled. “I see your bristly Badger spirit has finally come into its own.” He waved a hand at his companions. “Stand down.”  
   
“Wotcher, Jensen,” Tonks greeted after an incredibly awkward few seconds of silence wherein Jared refused to say a word; Jensen finally turned his gaze towards her and the rest of the room.  
   
“Tonks, Remus.” He smiled and tucked his wand into the back of his shield before he hugged them both. “Falcons!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Wasn’t Quidditch season cancelled?”  
   
Beaver looked like he was battling shock along with his disbelief. “It’s been on again, off again. It was on when we got here yesterday. Now, I’m assuming, it’s off.”  
   
Jensen nodded, obviously not sure what to make of that news. “Where’s the rest of the team?”  
   
“The rest quit,” Williams spat with a pointed look at his former Beater; no need to ask how he’d felt about that. “You started a trend, pal!”  
   
“Er… Right. Extenuating circumstances.” Jensen cleared his throat and looked to Tonks and Remus. “You mentioned a Dementor problem?”  
   
Before Tonks could say a word, Jared found his voice. “You’re an _Auror?_ ”  
   
“Yes,” Jensen replied, turning all his attention on Jared, as if he’d just been waiting for him to speak; it was more than a bit disconcerting to have that clear, green-eyed gaze so focused on him.  
   
“Something else you did in your spare time?” Jensen shrugged and Jared seethed. “And you’re not in Australia?”  
   
“No. Very observant, by the way.”  
   
Jared ignored the sarcasm, because if he hadn’t he would’ve punched Jensen again. “You were _here_ this whole time?”  
   
“Not exactly.”  
   
“How long have you been in England then?”  
   
“Technically, we’re in Scotland,” Jensen quipped, grimacing as Jared gave him a withering glare.  
   
“And you never told me.” Jensen opened his mouth, but Jared cut him off with a raised hand. “I went out of my mind when I didn’t hear from you! That ruddy owl you sent me wouldn’t even take a message out to you!”  
   
“Because I had no choice!”  
   
“You _always_ had a choice! You just didn’t choose me.” Jared’s nostrils flared as he let that bit of information sink into Jensen’s thick skull. “I suggest you get on with it then. What you came here to do.” He stared at Jensen with the same resolute focus that Jensen directed at him. “And afterwards? You can leave again. Do what you do best and _fuck off!_ ”  
   
“Oi!” The burliest of Jensen’s companions rounded on Jared, snarling. “That’s enough, lad! We’re Aurors with the Order of the Phoenix! You will show us the respect we deserve!”  
   
Jensen sighed. “Stand down, Fuller. I know him – he can talk to me any way he likes.”  
   
Jared growled at Jensen. “Or maybe _he_ won’t talk to you at all, you rat bastard!”  
   
Fuller whipped his wand out again, and Jensen put a hand out. “Kurt! I said stand down!”  
   
“Not that this reunion isn’t…fascinating,” Remus ventured warily, “but let’s not forget the horde of Dementors we’ve yet to deal with.”  
   
Tonks smacked her husband in the chest with the back of her hand. “Jared is totally justified in his anger!”  
   
“And Jensen had an equally justifiable reason to leave,” Remus argued.  
   
“Yes, but he came back and didn’t tell Jared. That’s the very definition of a prat move, darling.”  
   
Remus snorted. “Right. A prat move. It’d nothing to do with the fact that he was sworn to secrecy by the Order! He took an oath! _Dear_.”  
   
Tonks sniffed, impassive on Jared’s behalf. “Well, be that as it may…”  
   
“There’s no ‘may’ about it!” Remus disputed, fully on Jensen’s side. “That’s the way it was! Those were the rules!”  
   
“Rules are meant to be broken,” Tonks insisted, “or at least bent a bit.”  
   
“No – rules are there for a reason.”  
   
“Yes, do tell, Mr. _Moony_ , since you seem to know so bloody much about always abiding by the rules!” Tonks retorted, narrowing her eyes at her husband who huffed in exasperation. Jared and Jensen stared at them, agape, before looking at each other again.  
   
“Right,” Jensen said, sounding wryly amused. “Jared and I may not be married yet, but we can out-bicker the both of you any day, so if we could have _our_ argument back? Cheers.”  
   
Jared squinted at Tonks. “How do you two know so much about us?”  
   
“Er…” Tonks looked anything but innocent; in fact, both her hair and her face turned bright pink. “Jensen may or may not have asked us to keep an eye on you.”  
   
Sudden comprehension dawned on Jared. “Which is why…”  
   
“I introduced myself to you at Dumbledore’s funeral,” she confirmed. This, of course, left Jared glowering at Jensen.  
   
“Jared, please, babe…” Jensen pleaded softly.  
   
Jared sputtered as the term of endearment spiked his heart rate. “Don’t you _babe_ me!”  
   
“I love you!”  
   
Hope exploded in his chest, but he quashed it down ruthlessly. “Well, I…don’t…anymore.”  
   
“That’s a lie.”  
   
Jared couldn’t argue with that. “Well, I sure as hell don’t _like_ you!”  
   
“Oh.” Jared tried to ignore the absolutely gutted look on Jensen’s face. “Right.” Jensen drew in a quavering breath. “We’ll just be going then.”  
   
As Jensen turned to his companions, Fuller threw up his hands in disgust. “You can’t go into battle against _Dementors_ looking like someone just killed your puppy, Ackles,” he shouted, glaring at Jared over Jensen’s shoulder. “You! So you’re the infamous Jared, eh? And to think, I used to condone his psychotic, irrational, _erotic_ obsession with you, because, by Merlin, I did not need to _know_ that!” Fuller spat as Jared’s eyes goggled and Jensen buried his face in his free hand and groaned. “Whatever makes him happiest, I used to say! And now, here you are, sucking the life out of him like you’re in league with those Dark devils outside!”  
   
Jared’s jaw dropped as another of Jensen’s team, a thin, pasty, scruffy bloke Jared could’ve probably picked up with his little finger, grinned at him. “Jared, eh? Somehow, I thought you’d be taller in person. You look a lot bigger in the picture Ackles carries around with him.”  
   
Jared did a double take as Jensen gawked at his fellow Auror. “Shut it, Qualls! And how much taller do you want him to be? He’s already as big as bloody Yeti!” Jensen blinked and turned to give Jared a slow (and appraising) once over. “Seriously though, babe. You’ve gotten a lot bigger than you were before,” he whispered in awe, a stupid, lovesick look on his face that was absolutely not adorable. There were quite a few hushed snorts and giggles around them; Jensen shook his head as if to clear it. “Jared, Fuller’s got a point. It’s just that…well, I can’t do this unhappy.”  
   
“You what?”  
   
“I need to be happy to do this job well, and you just essentially broke my heart; that’s problematic in my current profession.”  
   
Jared sputtered in disbelief. “Are you _mad?_ ”  
   
“About you? Yes. Always.” Jensen smiled ruefully. “So it’d be really great if you could just forgive me, so we can kiss and make up, and I can go do my job and not get dead.”  
   
“No, seriously,” Jared insisted. “Did Dementors dent your brain or something? It’s taking all my self control just to be in the same room as you right now!”  
   
“I’m sorry.”  
   
“That’s not good enough!”  
   
“You said you’d wait for me,” Jensen growled, finally letting his frustration show. “It’s not my fault I took your word for it!”  
   
“Yeah, _wait_. For a few _months_ , maybe!” Jared shouted. “It’s been two years, six months and twenty-five – no, twenty-six, now – days!”  
   
“Oh,” Jensen said softly, his eyes lighting up a little.  
   
Jared pointed a finger in his face, warning him off. “Stop looking so hopeful!”  
   
“Stop giving me hope, then.”  
   
And there you had it, Jared mused: this was the very essence of _them_. Because while Jared’d been trying to keep his anger alive, and Jensen’d increasingly looked like all the joy was being siphoned right out of him, all Jared could feel was the soul-deep glow of happiness that’d started like the flicker of a firefly in his chest when Jensen’d appeared before him, older and still gorgeous and more beloved than ever, and by now, it’d grown, and it felt like Fiendfyre racing through his body.  
   
There was no way any judicial system, Muggle or Magical, would hold him accountable for his actions.  
   
He grabbed Jensen and kissed him, hard and bruising and brutally perfect – his kiss both a brand and a punishment – before he pulled away and stared into stunned green eyes. Jared leaned in close and snarled. “You leave me again and I will do things to you that make dealing with Dementors seem like a Sunday stroll in the park, do I make myself clear?”  
   
“As a crystal ball,” Jensen breathed, and then he blinked. “Er…you know, before it fills with smoke and visions and…stuff.”  
   
Jared closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Just go kill some Dementors. And come back to me in one piece.” He sighed, cupping Jensen’s face in his hands and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his plump mouth. “And I’ll wait. Always. Every time. For an eternity if I have to.”  
   
“Right.” Jensen cleared his throat, looking like he wouldn’t leave if You-Know-Who himself showed up to drag him away. “And I will always come back to you.”  
   
“See that you do.” A thought occurred to Jared. “Wait, _can_ you kill a Dementor?”  
   
“We’re working on it,” Jensen said, still blinking up at him as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. He held up his shield. “In the mean time, we drive them away.”

 

                                                                                           

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

                                        

 

Aldis – who’d gone from Keeper to Beater to Jared’s new partner as the team’s numbers had dwindled over the past couple of years as fear had spread through Britain – huffed out a breath and stared at the door the Aurors had walked out of over three hours ago. “How do you go from being a professional Quidditch player to being an Auror and an ally of the Order of the Bloody Phoenix?”  
   
“He’s brilliant,” Jared said simply, shrugging and pushing down the wave of worry he’d felt growing with every passing hour. “He’s got a big heart, and yeah, a bit of a hero complex. Powerful bloodlines, which equals formidable Magic, and a truly mighty wand that’s worthy of the wizard he’s become over the years.”  
   
Aldis chuckled. “Could you be any more in love with him, mate?”  
   
“Stupid question.” Jake snorted, elbowing Sebastian in the ribs as they laughed. “In their case, absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.”  
   
“Proximity worked even better,” Seb commented, chuckling. “Just thank your lucky stars that you never had the room next to them before.”  
   
“Oh?” Aldis grinned. “Noisy shags?”  
   
“If only,” Seb grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It was like being back at Hogwarts again and listening to my Slytherin dorm-mates wank in their beds next to me, so: awkward and amusing and sort of innocuously sweet.” He grinned rakishly. “Right up until you decide to join them and then, it’s a party. Made me see Jakey boy here in a whole new, very gay sort of light.”  
   
Jake groaned and hid his reddening face into the crook of his elbow, Seb fondly ruffling his hair and then leaving his hand at the nape of Jake’s neck, his touch possessive as Jake leaned into his side. Jared and Aldis looked at each other wide-eyed, bursting into surprised laughter when Seb leaned over and kissed Jake, on the lips and on the forehead, in a manner that looked so natural that it spoke volumes about their heretofore hidden relationship. Everyone but Sheppard, who’d fallen into an exhausted sleep on the sofa, and Misha, who was still Stupefied on the floor, hooted their congratulations, giving them the thumbs up as they nibbled on chocolate and kept the chatter jovial, bolstering one another’s spirits.  
   
Jared huffed out a breath and promptly gasped: he could _see_ his breath mist the air, and Jensen’s last warning before the Aurors had left came back to him: _If the temperature drops, prepare to cast your Patronuses._  
   
The coaches, apparently, had come to the same realization, just as the fire suddenly went out in the hearth and the front door rattled on its hinges. Beaver and Williams were the first to stand.  
   
“Everyone on your feet,” Williams ordered, and then directed the ones who couldn’t cast the Patronus Charm, as well as Sheppard (he’d startled awake) and Misha (Aldis Rennervated him and gave him back his wand), up against the wall and behind the ones who could.  
   
“Wands out, focus your mind and your memories,” Beaver instructed and he, Williams, Cohan, and Devine spread themselves out in a half-circle in between Jared, Aldis, Jake, Seb, and Kim.  
   
“We cast the Charm together,” Devine urged. “The shield will be stronger and wider.”  
   
Something banged on the door, shaking it loose from the frame, and everyone jumped. It took a supreme effort of will for Jared to even keep his wand hand steady, but he focused his mind and thought of Jensen, letting the best memories of their past wash over him, his happiness building like a wave inside him.  
   
The door shook again, clattering dangerously, but the wards held strong against the dark creatures trying to gain entrance. Then there was silence. Almost like the eerie calm before a storm.  
   
Suddenly, it seemed like the very large house was shaking in its foundation, the walls trembling, the thatched roof over the floor above them rustling ominously loud, as if the entire structure was being jostled to find its weak spot.  
   
“Bollocks,” Beaver gasped, immediately looking up and over their heads, his gaze landing on the fireplace. “We didn’t ward the chimney!”  
   
In the next instant, the flue and fireplace collapsed in on itself, crumbling brick and plaster and splintering wood strewn outwards towards where the team stood, their backs against the opposite wall.  
   
Just as the first menacing Dementor slithered down the broken chimney and into the room like a truly macabre manifestation of Father Christmas, Devine gave the signal, and everyone shouted the incantation at once.  
   
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”  
   
A giant shield of silvery light exploded from their wand tips, like a shimmering _Lumos_ magnified a million-fold, keeping the three Dementors that entered at bay, but then there were five, and Jared felt the shield waver against the onslaught. He was relieved when Sheppard pulled himself together enough to join their ranks, adding the power of his wand to the shield. They also made room for Bunty on the front line when he eked out a place for himself, his eyes closed and his bony hands spread out in front of his body, as if his Magic was helping to hold up the shield, like mortar to reinforce the wall the wands were trying to build.  
   
Jared redoubled his concentration, memories of Jensen flooding his mind: the first time they’d met, their first flight, their first kiss under the Basement stairs at Hogwarts, their first date, the first time they’d made love.  
   
Power surged out of him as his happiness grew and expanded and he felt as though the others were picking up on it, augmenting their efforts as best they could. When they were pushed back again, two more Dementors appearing through the haze of the Patronus shield, Jared pushed forward with his mind as he focused all his positive energy with single-minded intensity and funnelled it through his wand. The shield wavered, a small ball of light appearing at Jared’s feet, too indistinct to see but _there_ , more substantially than before, and it made the shield stronger.  
   
Still, they were no match for the grisly creatures, and the shield flickered and weakened.  
   
Everyone startled in the next second as a powerful whoosh of wind and light burst through the solid walls from the outside and a huge corporeal Patronus materialized in front of the shield; Jared could barely make out its shape, but it resembled some sort of jungle cat. He and the others dropped to the floor, the shield spreading over them like an umbrella as the Patronus suddenly sprouted and flapped giant wings – even cast in light, they looked leathery, not feathery – and the motion sent the Dementors back, a couple of them fleeing upwards and through the ceiling, crashing through the floor above, sending rubble raining down on the room below as the Patronus charged the rest of the Dementors and chased them up and out of the house as it took to the sky in pursuit.  
   
It was all Jared could do to focus on maintaining the shield, but it was draining work and, one by one, they were all getting exhausted.  
   
Bunty was the last amongst them to tire out, dropping to his knees as everyone looked up through the gaping void where the ceiling and roof used to be, but instead of an inky night sky, in the distance, they saw the first hint of light.  
   
“Dawn is breaking,” Bunty declared. “The nasty ones will flee the rising sun.”  
   
“Are you certain?” Jared whispered.  
   
“Yes, sir. Bunty is sure. Already the air feels lighter.”  
   
He was right, Jared realised; the air was less cloying and claustrophobic and, for the first time since last evening, he felt like he could breathe better.  
   
He stood slowly, his body aching and the beginnings of a headache teasing the base of his skull as he wondered if Jensen was safe, somewhere out there, and he certainly hoped he was happy. Fighting off just a handful of Dementors had been a major effort for them; he had no idea how Jensen and the others were fairing against thirty of the rotten creatures.  
   
Tonks and Remus Apparated into what was left of the room in the next heartbeat, both of them barely standing as Jared and Sebastian rushed forward to help them.  
   
“Get her some chocolate,” Remus begged Jared, who’d caught Tonks in his arms; Bunty hurried forward with a couple of slabs and both Aurors stuffed their mouths until the colour returned to their pallid faces.  
   
“Are they gone?” Seb asked. “Please tell me they’re gone.”  
   
Remus nodded. “The last of them are retreating but the ADU remains vigilant. They won’t return until they’re sure the threat’s abated,” he breathed, his eyes wavering from Tonks only when she smiled wearily at him. He took in Jared’s anxious face. “He’s fine.” Jared sagged with relief. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. And, Merlin, those shields are a magical feat of Alchemy!”  
   
“Bloody powerful in a pinch, they are,” Tonks agreed tiredly. “Because let me tell you – there may have been thirty odd Dementors around this place but there were many more around the island – too bloody close to Azkaban wherever it is in the North Sea, if you ask me – and they came to help their friends when we showed up.”  
   
Jared gulped. “When you say ‘many more’…?”  
   
“Over a hundred,” Tonks replied. Everyone gasped in shock. “Thank Merlin the ADU’s Patronuses are of magical beasts. I don’t know how they managed it, but they were magnificent!”  
   
The words were barely out of her mouth before a silver Thestral Patronus flew in through the open roof, its size not as intimidating as the Patronus that had come to their rescue before, but much the same as their skin and bone counterparts that pulled the carriages at Hogwarts. It was followed by a Hippogriff Patronus flying in, and then a Re’em – a large ox-like creature – came barrelling through the wall, all wispy smoke before it became corporeal again. In no time at all, their owners appeared in the room, the other Patronuses not far behind: an Erumpent, the magical beast that resembled a huge rhinoceros; a Tebo, Jared recognised when he saw the big warthog-like animal snort its way inside; and one that looked like a Nudu, a giant leopard that was one of the most dangerous beasts in the Magical world.  
   
Who knew Care of Magical Creatures class would’ve come in so handy? Although, Jared didn’t think this was exactly what Professor Kettleburn had had in mind when he’d taught them Taxonomy of Magical Beasts.  
   
He thought it was the Nudu that saved them, especially when it approached him, as if sniffing him out. It wasn’t dangerous, not like the real thing, but he knew Corporeal Patronuses could be substantial if not solid; he’d played with Jensen’s Wolf Patronus plenty of times when Jensen’d first taught him to cast the charm; it’d been beautiful, and strangely sentient, moreover, touching it felt like putting your hand into an icy spring, the Magic they were made from rippling through your fingers like rushing water.  
   
But Jensen’s Wolf was nowhere to be seen yet, and though that made Jared nervous, the Nudu nosing at his belly had him taking a hasty step back, startled more than anything; he would’ve fallen if not for the strong arm that wrapped around his waist from behind.  
   
“Jensen,” Jared breathed, shutting his eyes in relief. When he opened them Jensen was suddenly in front of him, looking ashen and worn out. Someone should get some chocolate in him, Jared had a split second to think, before Jensen pushed the Nudu out of the way and plastered himself to Jared’s body, cupping his face as he kissed him, Jared’s arms winding around him and keeping him close as he swept his tongue out to lick at the seam of Jensen’s lips. Jensen moaned softly as Jared nipped his plump bottom lip, suckling it before his tongue curled inside, tangling with Jensen’s, coaxing it into Jared’s mouth so he could suck on it as they hungrily devoured each other. Jared groaned as the arm wrapped around his waist tightened possessively, while Jensen’s hands on his face pulled him inexorably closer.  
   
Hang on a minute; something wasn’t quite right with that picture.  
   
If Jensen had his hands on Jared’s face, then whose arm was around Jared’s waist? Jared pulled back just as his side was nuzzled by a Patronus, big and burly, majestic, even: an enormous, fully maned lion.  
   
One that looked up at him with _Jensen’s_ face.  
   
“What the bloody _hell?_ ” Jared squawked, realizing at the same time that the _arm_ around his waist, the one he’d thought was Jensen’s, was really the Patronus’ tail. A _scorpion’s_ tail. Wrapped around Jared’s waist so that its stinger was dangerously close to Jared’s very important dangly bits, and Merlin, Jensen’s Patronus – because, shite, it even _felt_ like him – was now a ruddy _Manticore_.  
   
Jared burst out laughing.  
   
Jensen looked affronted and punched him in the shoulder. “You weren’t laughing when I saved your stupid arse a few minutes ago!”  
   
“That was you?” Jared asked, still snorting with laughter. “I thought it was the Nudu!”  
   
“No, it was me.” Jensen playfully pouted; Jared leaned in and kissed it off, and the Manticore snuggled into him again, like a giant, mutated kitty cat. Jared chuckled right into Jensen’s mouth.  
   
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he pulled back to ask, “but wasn’t your Patronus a wolf?”  
   
“It was,” Jensen said, all the mirth leaving his face; even his Patronus shimmered and faded a bit. “We went into battle a few months ago, back when the Dementors first started multiplying in number. We lost three of our team… Even I thought I was going to die that night.” He swallowed, and Jared’s grip on him tightened exponentially. “We were overwhelmed, but I was damned if I was dying without seeing you again, so I mustered up all the energy I had left, and the happiest thought I could think of, and when I cast the charm…well, _this_ Patronus appeared and it decimated the Dementors that were closing in on me.” Jared grabbed Jensen and kissed him soundly and when he pulled back, Jensen just stared up at him in a daze, his cheeks red and his lips puffy and pink from the pressure. “Your kisses work better than chocolate.”  
   
Jared grinned at his gorgeous, flushed face. “I think I know why it’s a Manticore.”  
   
“Really?” Jensen and his Patronus stared at each other. “How would _you_ know that?”  
   
“It’s a long story,” Jared said, still smiling like an idiot and holding Jensen close, Jensen’s Patronus wrapping around the two of them like a cool breeze. “Remind me later and I’ll tell you all about it.”  
   
They grinned goofily at each other and were about to kiss again when Jensen was nudged by the Nudu, the sound of chuckles and a few throats clearing reminded them that they weren’t alone. It should’ve been embarrassing, but Jared was far too happy to be bothered by the looks they were getting. Jensen winked at him and pulled away, corralling his Patronus back into his wand and, waving off the thanks from his old teammates. He cornered the coaches before they left.  
   
“The Ministry’s not going to be looking out for you so, for the safety of everyone,” Jensen said, “I think it’s best if you cancel the season.”  
   
Beaver sighed and nodded. “No way around that. I sure as hell don’t want to live through a night like this again.”  
   
The team had already thanked the rest of the Aurors, and everyone was keen to get back to their families and the safety of their homes, so Jensen gave the older man’s shoulder a squeeze as the other players began to Disapparate. “Can I have a word?” he asked, pulling Beaver to one side and beckoning Kim over, close enough that Jared was included in the conversation. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…I’ve seen so much loss in the past few months…” He shook his head as if to clear it and Jared’s heart ached for him as Jensen addressed Beaver frankly. “Don’t be a bastard and ignore the comfort Kim’s been offering you since she joined the team.” All three of them gaped at his bluntness, and Beaver’s face went ruddy with embarrassment; Kim just smirked.  “She’s giving you love and family on a platter; in your own words, you’d be an _idjit_ to pass that up.”  
   
“I’m too old for this shite,” Beaver grumbled, looking between Jensen and Jared before finally turning to Kim.  
   
Kim rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Jensen, but it’s too late. He is an _idjit_.” She still linked her arm through Beaver’s though. “But he’s _my_ idjit. Even if I have to spend the rest of our lives proving it to him.” She winked at them. “Leave it to me. I’m not the best Chaser on this team for nothing.” And with that, she sauntered off, dragging a reluctant (but not really) Keeper Coach behind her.  
   
Jared looked at Jensen and chuckled as they were joined by Tonks and Lupin. “All right, you two?”  
   
“Brilliant,” Tonks replied, not too tired to elbow Jared in the ribs. “And now that you’ve got your Auror in shining armour back at your side, I’m guessing you won’t be popping ‘round for tea and biscuits anytime soon.”  
   
Jensen and Remus both snorted as Jared turned on her. “When the bloody hell did you _invite_ me to pop ‘round for tea and biscuits before this?”  
   
“Jared,” Remus said before Tonks could get wound up, “you and Jensen will always be welcome in our home. We fully expect the two of you to pop ‘round when the baby comes.”  
   
“There! See?” Tonks smirked. “There’s your invitation. Would you like it engraved, Jared?”  
   
“Shut it, you.” Jared laughed. “And thank you for coming to our aid. Now, get out of here and get some rest.” She and Remus both nodded at that, and after exchanging a few more pleasantries and insults, they Disapparated away.  
   
“Come on.” Jensen nudged him. “Come and meet my team before they leave.”  
   
“You’re not going with them?”  
   
Jensen studied him. “I’d rather go with you.” Jared beamed and Jensen smirked. “As if I could bear to let you out of my sight now that I’ve found you again.”  
   
And so Jared was introduced to the people (and Patronuses) Jensen called his extended family, the ones he’d lived with and trained with and fought side by side with for the past two years since his return from Sydney: Kurt Fuller (he was as brusque and loyal as his Erumpent); Donald Joseph Qualls ( _just call him Qualls, Jared,_ was the scrappy Tebo); Alona Tal, and her mother-in-law, Samantha Ferris (who hadn’t been able to stand one another at first, Jensen confided in Jared later, but had clung to each other when Alona’s husband and Sam’s son had been killed in battle; now their Hippogriff and Re’em Patronuses were as inseparable as they were); Julian Richings (a fellow Ravenclaw who had, with Jensen’s help, developed the Anti-Dementor shields they carried, shields that were miniaturized and worn as badges on their robes when they weren’t fighting off Dementors; his was the Thestral Patronus); and finally, Lanette Ware (Jensen’s mentor and friend all through Auror training, who was, as Jensen said affectionately, the big sister he’d never had, though Josh did come in a close second; she was the Nudu.)  
   
“I feel privileged to have met them,” Jared said after they’d all gone. “They seem like good people.”  
   
“They are.” Jensen nodded, a dark, faraway look in his eyes. “Brave and selfless.”  
   
“Like you, you mean?”  
   
“There is nothing selfless about why I do this.” Jensen wrapped his arms around Jared’s neck and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss. “It’s like that night at the World Cup. Everything I do is to keep you safe; securing the safety of others in the meantime is just a happy coincidence.”  
   
“So you keep saying.” Jared shook his head and he kissed the tip of Jensen’s nose. “But I know you, and I know better.” Jensen ignored him and snuggled into his embrace, Jared smiling into the top of his head. “Shall we go home?”  
   
“Yes, please.”  
   
“Do you trust me enough to Side-Along Apparate with me?”  
   
Jensen smirked. “You splinch me and I’m never speaking to you again.”  
   
“Fair enough,” Jared agreed, holding Jensen close and concentrating as they Disapparated. They appeared again at the Edinburgh Portkey, and from there, they journeyed to Liverpool, Cardiff, and finally Plymouth, before Jared Side-Along Apparated them to their final destination.  
   
“This isn’t Falmouth,” Jensen said as he took in the Cornish countryside. His frown mellowed out once he saw the Celtic Sea in the distance; he sighed and took a long, deep breath. “It’s beautiful, Jared, but where are we?”  
   
“We’re on the other side of Cornwall. I suppose Penzance is the largest city nearby,” Jared told him, grabbing his hand as they started walking, quickly finding the winding path that cut through the grassy knolls. “Tell me more about what happened after you left Falmouth.”  
   
“Everything you heard me tell my father that day still held true, you know? No matter what – I couldn’t just stay away and do nothing. Not when the Death Eaters have taken so much away from us. Not when everyone who’s not pure-blooded is at risk.” He squeezed Jared’s hand. “I can’t imagine living in a world where you wouldn’t be safe, just because your mum was a Muggle.”  
   
Jared’s steps stuttered to a halt, and he yanked Jensen into his arms, holding on as tight as possible. “You…” he whispered, right into Jensen’s ear, “you’re _unbelievable_.”  
   
“I keep trying to tell you,” Jensen teased, “but you never listen to me.”  
   
When Jared could breathe again from kissing Jensen, he tugged on his hand, leading him forward as he urged him to keep talking.  “How did your family take it when you told them you were coming back?”  
   
“Think they felt betrayed.” Jensen shrugged. “When we arrived in Sydney, and my father settled down a bit, all of us went to work for the Australian Ministry of Magic, and after about a week there, I had a chance meeting with the Head of the Aurors. I signed up for the School a few days later, after they’d contacted Hogwarts and Connemara to get my results. It wasn’t enough to stay there, though; I wanted to be here. And then…Fate stepped in, in the form of Filius.”  
   
“Professor Flitwick?”  
   
“Yeah. Apparently he’d heard what I was up to and he said the Order needed good people – people they can trust in dark times – to bolster our numbers. After that, everything just sort of fell into place so quickly, and before I knew it – I was back in London.”  
   
“I wish you would’ve told me.”  
   
“I wish I could’ve, babe, but…it was the Oath of the Order.”  
   
“Yeah.” Jared sighed. “Okay.”  
   
“I broke the rules when Tonks mentioned you were upset over losing someone named Ned.” Jensen smiled a little sadly. “I wanted to come to you so badly…you can’t even imagine, Jared. But we were called away on a mission and I just… I had to do something. I couldn’t have you thinking you were all alone.”  
   
“Well, Rogue and Penny and I have become good friends, even if Rogue and I had our issues in the beginning when I tried to send her back to you.”  
   
Jensen chuckled. “Yeah, she can be a bit grumpy.”  
   
“Not unlike her master.”  
   
“You? Grumpy?” Jensen teased, his gorgeous green eyes twinkling with mirth.  
   
“You, Grumpy,” Jared told him, squashing him close again as the cottage came into view. “We’re home.”  
   
Jensen looked around, his eyes alighting on the front gate first, then tracking through the lush garden, before scanning the cottage and lastly coming to rest on Jared as he frowned. “Home?”  
   
Jared bit his lip as he scuffed his foot into the dirt on the path. “I went to bury Ned in the family plot – I know it’s stupid…”  
   
Jensen stepped up and into him, chest to chest as he wrapped his arms around Jared’s waist. “It’s not stupid. It’s sweet. He _was_ family.”  
   
“Yeah,” Jared agreed gruffly. “The cemetery’s in the town where I was born. It’s just outside Newlyn – not too far from here. I hadn’t been back since Great Aunt Callie’s funeral…”  
   
“When Ned found you,” Jensen said in sudden understanding. “Full circle.”  
   
“I _knew_ you’d understand.” Jared’s eyes filled with tears, and he huffed, wicking them away impatiently as he told Jensen what he’d found when he’d visited his old house.  
   
Jensen’s brow creased. “A Muggle solicitor?”  
   
“Yeah, turned out he’s been trying to find me since my twenty-fifth birthday. He’d been using a net, the new owners told me, which…”  
   
“A _net?_ ” Jensen blinked. “Did he think you were a fish?’ He shook his head disparagingly. “Muggles are weird.”  
   
“That’s what I thought!” Jared laughed. “But they looked at me like _I_ was a bit barmy. She gave me his card, though, and I went to Penzance to find him and apparently this cottage here is my mum’s inheritance. It was supposed to go to her on her twenty-fifth birthday, but she died before then…so it just went into trust for…me.”  
   
“Jared!” Jensen looked at the little cottage again, excited this time as he grabbed Jared’s hand and dragged them through the front gate and up the front walk. “It’s yours! Something to call your very own. Something that _belongs_ to you. Babe, that’s fantastic. I love it already!”  
   
“I think you’re more excited than I was!”  
   
“I’m excited _for_ you, brat! This is brilliant. What’re you waiting for? I want the grand tour.”  
   
So Jared pulled him inside, delighting in the fact that Jensen looked like a happy little boy, and the first room he led him into was the living room; he stood back and watched as Jensen’s eyes roved over the length and breadth of the room, coming to rest on the mantle. Jensen looked at him in shock, and Jared ducked his head, smiling shyly.  
   
“I found it in the attic, when I was going through some of the things that’d been put into storage there,” he said, watching as Jensen reverently traced the glass picture frame with his finger. “It’s a Muggle photograph, so it doesn’t move but…” Jared swallowed past the boulder in his throat. “It’s them. On their wedding day. And the other one must’ve been taken just seconds after I was born. Before…before she died.”  
   
“I was right,” Jensen said quietly, his eyes brimming with tears. “She’s gorgeous. And he’s handsome, and you look like both of them. Your dad’s eyes, his hair, his _sideburns_ , Merlin, and your mum’s smile and her lovely dimples and that little dip in her chin…” Jared couldn’t _not_ touch him in that moment, and he had his arms, his body, his entire world wrapped around Jensen in the next second, and Jensen leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “I knew it. I told you so.”  
   
Jared laughed. “How long’ve you been waiting to say that to me? Yes, Jensen. I bow down to your superior intellect.”  
   
“About bloody time,” Jensen said, chuckling, eyes bright. “Never doubt me again.”  
   
“I won’t.”  
   
“They look so happy.” Jensen sniffed. “I’m glad they were so happy.”  
   
“Me, too,” Jared agreed, his mouth pressing tender kisses along Jensen’s nape, slowly mapping a trail to that soft bit of skin behind Jensen’s ear. “Just like us, I reckon.”  
   
Jensen beamed, grabbing Jared’s hands and kissing one and then the other. “Show me the rest?”  
   
Jared did. In fact, showing him around made Jared look at the place with new eyes as well, both of them ridiculously pleased by the time they walked into the sunny kitchen at the back of the house, Jensen laughing delightedly when Florence quivered madly as he brushed a gentle hand over her colourful foliage, Daphne turning towards him, as always the sunflower to Jensen’s sun, honking happily as she pressed pollen-dusted kisses all over his face.  
   
Jared grinned, his heart swelling in his chest. “Should I leave you two alone for a bit?”   
   
“Shut it, brat,” Jensen jeered, stooping to pick up Penelope and give her a quick cuddle before he reunited with Rogue, the owl petting and grooming him gently with her fluffy wings and sharp beak. Jensen let them all have their way with him before he turned to Jared, his face glowing with contentment.  
   
“Welcome home, Jensen,” Jared said softly. “Because it’s yours, too. I never, not for a second, thought of it as only mine. From the moment I first laid eyes on it, I knew it was _ours_.”  
   
“Ours,” Jensen agreed, his smile tired but radiant. He walked right into the circle of Jared’s arms and stayed there for a good long while.

 

 

 

  
                                         

 

 

                                                                                            

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

  
  
  
_Steven Williams, paraphrasing something a great American (some chap named Kennedy) once said, to the Falcons, during a much needed break after a two-day-long-and-still-going-strong Quidditch match against the Ballycastle Bats, as the Falcons doggedly tried to stave off yet another loss, and to which Jensen responded by jumping to his feet and emulating either – Jared wasn’t quite sure – Billy Ocean (a British Muggle popstar) or Boyzone (an Irish boyband with both Muggle and Magical members) with his horrendous dance moves and off-key singing of the song with the same name. Jared almost died laughing, but he and the rest of the Falcons gamely joined Jensen, their impromptu romp fostering team spirit better than magic, Jared reckoned, and after Katie finally caught the damn Snitch a couple of hours later, the Falcons beat the top team in the League for the first time in their history._

 

                                                                                        

 

Jensen stepped out of the tub and stretched, rolling his shoulders and loving the way his muscles felt, relaxed and limber after the hot water and steam he’d been immersed in for the past twenty minutes. Being an ally of the Order as a full-fledged Auror over the past year – after he’d essentially fast-tracked through Auror School, not so much because of his intelligence and magical prowess but because the Order had been desperate – had been exhausting, and even grabbing a quick shower was a luxury; most days he and the others made do with a cleaning spell. He looked longingly out the bathroom window, his gaze tracking over the lush green hills that led down to the slate blue sea; going for a swim was definitely next on his list of indulgences, but first things first: Now that Jared’d filled his belly with food, Jensen yearned for sustenance of a different, maybe even more vital, sort.  
   
He squawked in surprise (although he’d deny it to his dying day) when he was ambushed on his way out of the bathroom, manhandled and slammed up against the wall; he only had a second to register Jared’s looming presence before he was kissed to within an inch of his life. It took all of his strength to push Jared away as he stared up at him in shock.  
   
“What happened to my shy, shrinking violet?”  
   
“You left him,” Jared accused softly, brushing Jensen’s lip with the pad of his thumb. “So he decided that when he got you back, he was going to be a bit more forceful about keeping you around.”  
   
Jensen smirked. “Sounds like he’s finally grown up a bit.”  
   
“Maybe.”  
   
Jensen ran his hands over Jared’s bulging biceps and hard, muscled chest, playfully tweaking Jared’s nipples through his shirt. “ _Definitely_ , mate.”  
   
“I’ve always followed wherever you’ve led me…”  
   
“Well,” Jensen mumbled as he nipped at Jared’s chin, “sometimes it’s nice to have you take the lead.”  
   
“Is that so?” Jared’s mouth crashed into his again, their teeth knocking together in his savage quest to devour Jensen whole. Jensen gave as good as he got, spreading his legs so Jared could press into him, hooking one and then the other around Jared’s hips, his erection pushing right up against Jensen’s hardening cock through trousers and towel.  
   
Jared’s hands, those big, massive mitts of his that’d been holding Jensen’s head in place as Jared plundered his mouth, moved downwards, grazing over Jensen’s still moist skin, flicking over his pebbled nipples before whisking away his towel and squeezing his arse as he pulled Jensen tight against his rolling hips, until Jensen couldn’t even catch his breath and was forced to rip his mouth away from Jared’s.  
   
“Wait,” Jensen panted, and Jared growled his displeasure; it sent a bolt of lust shooting up Jensen’s spine. “If I’m about to get fucked – I _am_ about to get fucked, right?”  
   
“ _Through the mattress_.”  
   
Jensen shivered violently. “Then not even that foul git the Dark Bloody Lord is going to get in the way. Put up every protective ward you can think of…” Jared grabbed him when he tried to push off and, in the span of the next second, with a rather fiendish display of strength not borne from magic, Jared had toppled him flat on his back on their bed.  
   
“Already done, way ahead of you,” Jared boasted, all but ripping off his shirt and unbuttoning his trousers, giving Jensen an erotic little strip tease as he got himself naked and on his knees on the bed, legs splayed, cock jutting out proudly. Shite, but he was gorgeous, all golden skin and sinewy muscle, and so bloody much of it that Jensen’s mouth watered at the thought of licking him all over. “You can look _and_ touch, you know.”  
   
“C’mere,” Jensen muttered, much too preoccupied with the visual of Jared’s cock pointed right at him. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to touch Jared, so he started with his beautiful cock, putting his mouth to its glossy red head even as he fisted the silken steel of it in his hand. Jared moaned, loud and wanton. “How close are your nearest neighbours?”  
   
“What? Why?”  
   
“Just wondering if I should cast a _Muffliato_ ,” Jensen quipped. “It’s always the quiet ones who’re the loudest in bed; don’t think I’ve forgotten. My Pensieve’s gotten a lot of use over the past two years.”  
   
Jared choked out a laugh. “At least you had a Pensieve. You’ve got a lot of making up to do, love,” he said, pushing Jensen’s head back down onto his cock. “Get a move on.”  
   
“Bossy bastard,” Jensen grumbled, but he still licked and sucked and swallowed Jared down as far as he would go, gagging on the glorious length of him as Jared just held his head in place and lovingly – but Merlin, oh so _thoroughly_ – fucked his mouth. Jensen twitched when he felt a sudden twinge at his hole, his muscles contracting instinctively as he pulled off; Jared wasn’t touching him there, but it felt like something was slowly pushing inside him, and despite the fact that it felt amazing, he jerked anxiously. “Jared?”  
   
“You left all your naughty Ravenclaw books behind when you left,” Jared reminded him, looking far too smug and controlled considering what Jensen’d been doing to him for the past few minutes. He leaned in close and licked across Jensen’s bottom lip, probably tasting himself there, as his beautiful hazel eyes smouldered and bored right through to the heart of Jensen. “And I had a lot of free time on my hands. I’ve become very…adept at all this.” Jensen gulped, fear gripping him as Jared’s words registered; suddenly he felt physically sick. Jared swatted the back of his head, none too gently, before gathering him up in his arms in a crushing hug, kissing him and speaking against his mouth. “There has never been anyone but you in my heart and in my bed, you ruddy idiot. Stop looking so worried.”  
   
Jensen sagged with relief, his mouth falling open to the onslaught of Jared’s tongue while Jared’s hand stripped his cock, tugging on it slowly as his hole was teased with phantom tingles and ripples of pure sensation. Jensen whimpered, and Jared’s answering groan was deep and lusty as he pushed Jensen down into the mattress and expertly flipped him onto his stomach, Jensen moaning as his cock was shoved down into the soft sheets, the pressure and drag nowhere near enough and yet almost too much.  
   
He nearly came out of his skin when Jared, with no preamble whatsoever, raised up his hips, until he had his arse in the air and his cheeks spread, and _licked_ him.  
   
Jensen groaned, low and guttural, as Jared’s warm breath ghosted over his hole, his tongue lapping around the rim before flicking inside in teasing little licks as he sucked soft kisses right there, driving Jensen out of his bloody mind because, even in his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined Jared doing something so filthy and yet so fucking amazing to him. He’d pictured it the other way ‘round plenty of times, though. Who knew Jared had grown up into such a kinky bastard? Jensen suddenly missed the past two years, six months and twenty-seven days with a ferocity he’d never felt before.  
   
“Jared, fuck me, babe, please,” he pleaded, never too proud to beg when it came to Jared.  
   
“Yeah,” Jared rasped, rising up and pressing a long line of kisses along the groove of Jensen’s spine, and across his shoulders as he fitted his larger frame snug against Jensen’s, his big, hard cock just as snug in the cleft of Jensen’s arse. Jared grabbed his wand – Jensen couldn’t even recall him summoning it – while he pumped Jensen’s cock, cupping his balls and squeezing them hard until Jensen thought his orgasm would explode out of him, but he was ruthlessly stopped from coming by what felt like a band squeezing around the base of his cock, choking off both his breath and his orgasm. “Not yet,” Jared whispered, right into his ear, as Jensen suddenly recalled the exact book Jared must’ve taken instruction from; he shuddered and braced himself for what was to come.  
   
The lubricating spell he’d once taught Jared was put to good use when Jared stretched him open with his thick fingers, sliding them in and out of Jensen’s hole with the single minded determination to drive Jensen completely ‘round the bend as the brush of them against his sweet spot. It had Jensen keening and arching his back, bearing down on Jared’s fingers as he gasped, mindless with need.  
   
Suddenly, though, he was lifted up in the air, spread-eagled as Jared crawled under his body, smirking up at him as he turned over onto his back and slowly lowered Jensen until he was straddling him. Jared grinned as Jensen glared at him. “Ride me? I’ve always wanted to try it this way and we never got to.”  
   
“Fuck, yes,” Jensen breathed, “enough playing.” He reached behind him and lined Jared’s cock up with his hole, bracing his hands on Jared’s belly, his fingers spreading possessively over Jared’s sweaty skin as he bore all the way down with a tormented sigh, shivering when their bodies met.  
   
“So fucking tight, Jensen,” Jared grunted. “You feel so damn _good_.” He leaned up and bit at Jensen’s bottom lip. “You’re the only person who’d pout when he was getting fucked as good as this.”  
   
“It’s only because you’re torturing me by taking your own sweet time,” Jensen groaned, lifting up and sliding back down again, a slow, sweet drag, inch by inch, as he took Jared’s cock inside him, again and again, panting with the effort as he savoured the hungry gleam in Jared’s eyes. It just augmented the rush of his hole swallowing Jared’s cock, sucking it in as if that’s exactly where it belonged, and with his orgasm held in check, Jensen just enjoyed the ride, revelling in the command he had over Jared as they both tested their limits.  
   
It got too much to bear too soon, though, their breathing becoming erratic and laboured, sweat building on their skin as Jared gritted his teeth and watched the show Jensen put on for him, writhing and undulating on his cock like it was the best thing he’d ever done, ever felt. It _was_ , but Jared didn’t need to know how much power he held over Jensen either, especially when he grasped his hips and moved Jensen on his cock with vigour, the show of raw strength making Jensen’s balls ache, making them throb in time with his pulse as Jared bucked up and ground Jensen down on him until both of them were gasping for release.  
   
Jared bodily lifted him off his cock then, flipping them, putting Jensen on his back with a possessive growl, hooking his arms behind Jensen’s knees as he spread his legs wide open and pressed down on him, chest to chest as he eased his cock back inside, filling Jensen spectacularly full, Jared’s muscles straining with the effort of holding Jensen up and open as he fucked him in deep, desperate strokes. It was sexy as hell, and if Jensen could’ve come, he would’ve, from the naked desire on Jared’s face alone, like he wanted to ravish him, ruin him for anyone else – which, mission bloody accomplished _years_ ago – and he almost blacked out when Jared pulled back, only the tip of his cock inside Jensen, nearly bending him in two as he rammed back in with enough force to make stars burst behind his eyelids.  
   
Jensen moaned as Jared leaned down to claim his mouth in a scorching kiss. “Jared, please…”  
   
“Had enough?” Jared asked, his breath puffing out against Jensen’s spit-slick, well-bitten lips. “Wanna come for me now?”  
   
“Yes, damn you, _yes!_ ”  
   
“ _Finite Incantatum_ ,” Jared whispered, and that invisible band around Jensen’s cock – and Jared’s too, he thought, because there’s no way they’d both lasted this long without it – was gone when Jared fucked into him again, burying himself to the hilt before he rolled his hips, thrusting shallower now as he pressed deliciously against Jensen’s prostate with every move.  
   
Before Jensen knew it, every muscle in his body seized, coiling tightly as if bracing itself for the impact of his orgasm, and when he came, it was _glorious_ , his spunk exploding out of him, splattering everywhere, over their bellies and chests and chins as he thrashed with the force of his release, shuddering helplessly, a ragged moan ripped from his throat as his hole clenched spasmodically around Jared’s cock, so bloody hard that Jared’s eyes popped open in surprise, and he shook with the effort of fucking Jensen through it, his orgasm seemingly punching the breath from his body as he filled Jensen with hot, creamy spurts of come, his cock slipping in the slickness as he groaned and collapsed on Jensen’s chest.  
   
“You _beast_ ,” Jensen muttered when he could breathe again, after Jared had pulled out and practically licked every inch of him clean, and if Jensen hadn’t been so thoroughly sated, if he’d’ve been able to _move_ , he’d’ve done something about returning the favour. “Remind me to take you this little shop I know in Knockturn Alley.”  
   
“Madam Merlot’s?” Jared asked, innocently batting his stupid eyelashes.  
   
“Fuck.” Jensen buried his face in the crook of Jared’s neck and groaned. “I’ve created a monster.”  
   
Jared laughed and shifted, propping himself up on his elbow until he loomed over Jensen, who blinked up at him, summoning the strength to stroke his hand through the silky strands of Jared’s hair, damp now with sweat, as Jared shuffled about, his arms and legs fastening around Jensen’s body like a giant octopus and squeezing. “I missed you so much.”  
   
“I missed you, too,” Jensen said softly, leaning up for a sweet kiss. “I love you.”  
   
“Love of your life, if I recall correctly.”  
   
“Yeah, yeah. Smug is not a good look on you.” Jensen traced the bow of Jared’s lips with a fingertip. “You know, convention dictates that when someone tells you that they love you, it’s only polite to return the sentiment.”  
   
Jared’s dimples dug deep into his cheeks as he grinned. “Hufflepuff House was never big on lessons in etiquette.”  
   
“Must I teach you everything?”  
   
“It’s worked so well for us, why stop now?” Jensen just stared up at him, and waited with bated breath, because Jared had never said the words before, and never before had Jensen wanted to hear them so desperately. Jared’s smile began in his eyes and it felt like it radiated all the way down to his toes as they curled against Jensen’s calves. “I’ve loved you since I was eleven years old, Jensen.” He kissed the tip of Jensen’s nose as his eyes widened in surprise. “You were my first love. You are my only love. I will never love anyone the way I love you; of that, you can be sure.”  
   
Jensen’s breath stuttered in his chest as he let it out; he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. “You could’ve mentioned that before, you know,” he whispered as he drew Jared’s head down, close enough to kiss him again as Jared smiled and sighed contentedly against his lips.  
   
“You weren’t ready to hear it before.” And yeah, that might very well’ve been true; trust Jared to know him better than he knew himself. Jared chuckled at the undoubtedly petulant look on Jensen’s face, the sound both sweet and nostalgic. “I’ve been watching you for most of my life, Jensen. Sometimes, I feel like I know you better than I know myself.” Jensen laughed at the similarity of their thoughts. “That’s not such a bad thing, is it?” Jensen shook his head, still smiling. “I’ve always been able to count on you, whenever it’s mattered most, and you’ve yet to let me down. Even when I feel like I’ll never be happy again, you still show up and give me hope.”  
   
Jensen silently agreed; he knew exactly what Jared meant. Jared was his compass, his True North, and in these dark times, it was nice to have something so brilliant always guiding him towards the Light.

                                                                                          

   
“You’re sniffing me again aren’t you?” Jensen murmured sleepily as Jared nosed at the skin of his neck, gently pulling Jensen from a contented slumber the next morning.  
   
Jared hummed agreeably. “It’s sort of the same but different. Not so much parchment and ink, more of something metallic, like burnished silver.”  
   
“ _You’re_ still the same, just… It’s deeper, muskier,” Jensen told him, feeling a bit out of sorts that Jared had picked up on the one scent that permeated his lab, the one where he and Julian had toiled so hard to develop their Anti-Dementor shields.  
   
“Oh? What do I smell like to you?”  
   
Jensen smiled, closing his eyes and breathing in deep. “You smell like the Herbology Greenhouse you liked to muck about in so much.” He dodged Jared’s fingers as he tried to pinch him. “That’s not a bad thing! I like it, actually. It’s…comforting.”  
   
“What else?”  
   
“Like burnt sugar, almost… Oh! Like my favourite section at Honeydukes. No! Like the _Fleur de Sel Caramel_ at Fortescue’s!” Jensen gave Jared another sniff as Jared laughed and snuggled closer. “Like the alcove under the stairs at Hogwarts,” Jensen whispered finally. “Like _home_.”  
   
Jared squeezed him, kissing his cheek, his earlobe, his temple, the corner of his eye. “I love you,” he whispered, smiling against Jensen’s mouth, his words as vital to Jensen as the air he breathed. Then he closed the hair’s breadth distance between their mouths and kissed him, his fringe falling in Jensen’s eyes as his tongue lapped at the corners of Jensen’s mouth in little licks.  
   
“You are not unlike your Patronus,” Jensen murmured.  
   
“What?” Jared blinked down at him, confused. “My Patronus is incorporeal.”  
   
“No, it’s not.”  
   
“Yes, it is.”  
   
“No, brat. I saw it last night. It was…the very essence of you. No way it belonged to one of the others.”  
   
“That little ball of light!” Jared exclaimed excitedly. “It had a _shape?_ ”  
   
“Yes. It’s bloody pathetic considering you’re a Yeti, but whatever.” Jensen chuckled. “Cast it and find out.” Jared grabbed his wand from the bedside table and, smothering Jensen with his big body as he leaned over the edge of the bed, he cast the charm, his eyes widening when his Patronus appeared. Jensen lasted a good two seconds before he gave and guffawed. “A _teacup_ poodle, Jared! Merlin!”  
   
“It is not a teacup poodle, you ruddy git!” Jared retorted with a smack to Jensen’s bare arse. “It’s just a little puppy. I think… Jensen, it looks a bit like an English Sheepdog.”  
   
Jensen stretched out his arm, palm up, and the little Puppy Patronus bore down on its dainty front paws, its hind end up in the air, arse and tail wagging as it geared itself up and leapt into Jensen’s hand, the sensation cool and tingly. “Whatever the breed, mate. It’s the size of a Bludger. A cute little ball of furry light.” Jensen laughed as the tiny thing licked Jensen’s thumb.  
   
Jared’s smile was radiant. “I must’ve been really happy to cast him.”  
   
Jensen leaned over and kissed his dimpled cheek. “Must’ve been,” he agreed smugly, handing Jared’s Patronus over to him as he summoned his wand and brought forth his Manticore. He looked from one Patronus to the other, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”  
   
“Sod off.” Jared laughed, especially when the Manticore leapt onto the foot of the bed and nuzzled him before turning its attention to its new bite-sized companion; the Puppy licked its nose and the Manticore – with Jensen’s face – looked at once insulted and in love. “Don’t eat him,” Jared warned, dropping his Patronus onto the Manticore’s mane, where the Puppy rooted around, making a little nest for himself, before flopping down, as if ready for a nap while the Manticore huffed a beleaguered sigh and rolled its eyes; Jared winked at Jensen. “Looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”  
   
Jensen rolled _his_ eyes; it was a more than appropriate response to the ridiculousness of their Patronuses. “Opposites attract, and all that.”  
   
“I don’t think we’re all that different from one another, do you?” Jared asked, looking genuinely curious.  
   
“In the beginning,” Jensen said, “definitely. But maybe not so much anymore.”  
   
“I think we balance each other out,” Jared mused. “In spite of being apart for years, we just sort of slot back together again, don’t we?”  
   
Jensen leered at him, smothering him with his body. “That we do.”  
   
“You’re insatiable.”  
   
“Until last night, I hadn’t had sex in two years, six months and twenty-seven days!”  
   
“Did you want a prize or something?”  
   
“Something,” Jensen grumbled.  
   
“How about breakfast?”  
   
Jensen pouted. “Am I not getting fucked first?”  
   
“Oh.” Jared grinned cheekily. “Well, if you insist.”  
   
Jensen haughtily looked down his nose at Jared. “I’m afraid I must.”  
   
“Privileged prat.”  
   
“Impertinent brat.”  
   
Jared laughed and smothered Jensen with his body and mouth, and no more words were said until both of them were sweaty and sated – and showered – a couple of hours later.  
   
“Seriously,” Jared muttered as he sat down to breakfast, even though decent people might’ve called it lunch.  Jensen had been kind enough to cook, a skill he’d picked up out of necessity over the past two years, so the meal was…rustic; he totally lacked Jared’s flair in the kitchen. “Should I be worried about your sordid love affair with my prized daffodil?”  
   
“You think you’re funny, but you’re really not,” Jensen pointed out, stabbing at his sausage, dipping it into his runny egg yolks and stuffing his mouth with its delicious goodness as Daphne tickled his ear.  
   
“Heathen,” Jared remarked fondly, reaching out to trace Jensen’s bottom lip with his thumb and then licking it free of grease. Jensen’s eyes almost crossed as he stared at Jared’s pretty mouth, mesmerized. Jared smirked. “Can I help you with something?”  
   
Jensen frowned at Jared’s anything-but-innocent expression. “Instead of being jealous of a potted plant, perhaps you could have a word with her.” Jensen sniffed as Daphne honked happily. “She keeps touching me. I feel violated.”  
   
Jared snorted. “S’because you’re bloody irresistible, mate.” He leered playfully. “Even I’m having a hard time not touching you right now.”  
   
“Who’s asking you not to touch me?”  
   
“You’re the one spouting shite about rules and etiquette all the time,” Jared teased as Jensen rose from his seat at the table and casually plopped himself down on Jared’s lap.  
   
“I’m sorry, babe. You were saying?”  
   
“I was saying…” Jared growled and sunk his teeth into Jensen’s neck, worrying them over a bruise he’d sucked into the tender skin the night before, “…fuck breakfast.”  
   
Jensen gasped, barely holding on to his wits as he mockingly tsked. “The most important meal of the day? Shame on you, Jared.”  
   
Jared opened his mouth to speak, but he was startled, brutally cut off by a shrill alarm, one that Jensen knew well but Jared had never heard before, and there went Jensen’s idyllic little escape from reality. Seriously, real life could kiss Jensen’s freckled white arse.  
   
“What is that?” Jared asked as Jensen grabbed his wand and silenced the alarm, a Protean Charm attached to his shield that alerted him to a gathering of the ADU; he’d gotten the idea from the Falcons’ badges.  
   
“It’s the team,” Jensen stated, all business now as he summoned his robes. He checked the miniaturized shield and drew in a fortifying breath. “I have to go, Jared.”  
   
“What?”  
   
“I’m sorry, babe. Duty calls.” Jared looked scared silly, so Jensen pulled on his robes and hauled him into his arms, hugging him and kissing him soundly. “I’ll be doing everything in my power to come back home to you. But if I can’t, I will send one of the team to fetch you, or a house elf named Fowler. He’ll bring you to me if I can’t make it back to you.”  
   
“Jensen…”  
   
“It’ll be okay. Don’t leave here otherwise. If no one comes in three days, go to Great Aunt Augusta’s and stay there. If trouble finds you, take her and head to the Weasleys’. Do you hear me, Jared?”  
   
Jared blinked, obviously trying to process Jensen’s rapid-fire speech. “Yes! But Jensen…”  
   
“I have to go.”  
   
“Come back to me.”  
   
“Always.” Jensen kissed him once more. For luck. It certainly wasn’t a farewell. “ _Always_.”

 

                                                                                        

   
Jensen made it back in three days that time, drained from a battle with Dementors at the edge of the Forest of Dean but, however hard they tried, he and Jared couldn’t quite reclaim the carefree tranquillity from before, not when the forces of the Dark seemed to be inching in on every aspect of their lives. Jensen was constantly on edge, and Jared was stressed by proxy.  
   
Jensen made sure to keep Jared informed of all his assignments, as much as he could divulge himself, for Jared’s safety as well as his team of Aurors and the Order. It was difficult, but Jensen managed; theirs was a relationship that had been built on a solid foundation: No matter what life had thrown at them, they’d always stuck together; that wasn’t about to change anytime soon.  
   
Still, Jensen worried. He was haunted by the losses they’d suffered already, just as he was plagued by thoughts of the war ahead. It was inescapable, and it got harder and harder to leave Jared alone in their home, knowing in his gut that, no matter what he said to pacify Jared, the Order was outnumbered out there, fighting a losing battle where every outcome, no matter which way you looked at it, rested on the shoulders of one young lad; a boy who’d seemingly fallen off the face of the earth, only to rise again, out of the grottos of Gringotts, on the back of a dragon.  
   
Though it might’ve seemed like it, especially in times like these, this was no fairytale. And in Jensen’s line of work, death was an ever-increasing inevitability. Bloodshed was a given. Madness and mayhem were already rampant and spreading like wildfire. Lives were going to be changed – irrevocably – and happily ever after wasn’t even a glimmer on the horizon of possibility.  
   
There was never any reason to believe that he and Jared – or any of their friends – were special enough to be spared.

 

                                                                                            

 


	12. Chapter 12

  


 

                                           

 

The War crept in like a tempest, dark and destructive, beginning with a lull, a brief respite from the havoc of the months prior, after the Order had thwarted several scattered skirmishes with the enemy, after they’d earned a few hard-fought near-victories; after they’d begun to have hope.  
   
Jensen presumed it was different for different people.  
   
For Harry, it’d probably started the day he’d managed to defeat the most powerful Dark wizard in the world, without even knowing it, back when he was just a baby.  
   
For Jensen, it’d started in Aberdeen, when his team had suffered their worst casualties. For Jared, reality bit when Tonks and Remus Apparated into their kitchen one afternoon, Tonks in tears as she tried to hold herself together, one hand clutched in Remus’ as if she would never let go, and the other curled protectively over her belly and their unborn child.  
   
“Tonks?” Jared asked, on his feet immediately, but Tonks only had eyes for Jensen.  
   
“He’s gone,” she sobbed. “Vanished, Jensen. And even though we’ve had friends in the Order looking, no one’s seen or heard from him at all.”  
   
Remus looked just as bleak when he spoke, his face pallid, his eyes bruised from exhaustion. “We think he’s been taken by Snatchers.”  
   
“Who?” Jared asked impatiently, his harried gaze darting between the three of them.  
   
“My dad,” Tonks said. “He’s a Muggle-born wizard, but he refused to register with the Ministry and now he’s on the run.” Her frantic gaze landed on Jensen once again. “I need your help. Please, Jensen.”  
   
“Of course,” Jensen assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders – she was alarmingly thinner than before – and giving her a squeeze as he met Remus’ eyes over her head. “You know I will. I’ll get the team together and we’ll look into it straight away.”  
   
“I’d go,” Remus told him, “but it’s nearing the full moon and I’m running out of Wolfsbane Potion. Fleur’s been kind enough to brew a batch for me, but it’s taking her longer than she first thought.”  
   
“Don’t worry about it, Remus,” Jensen insisted. “Please, just get Tonks back home; this can’t be good for the baby. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear something. I give you my word.”  
   
Tonks hugged him then, clinging to him and stuttering her thanks before hugging Jared and apologizing for intruding, as if any of them could help the horrible things that were happening in the world around them. Tonks and Remus left as Jensen grabbed his robes, but something niggled at him like a burr, and he paused, a frightening sense of foreboding not letting him leave.  
   
“Jared, what did you say about those strange people in the village market the other day?”  
   
Jared blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. “You mean those blokes bothering that Muggle family? I almost pulled my wand on them before they took off.”  
   
“Yeah, them.” Jensen gulped. “How many of them were there?”  
   
“About five.”  
   
“Have you seen them since?”  
   
“No… Jensen, what’re you on about?”  
   
“We’ve had reports of Snatchers being seen in and around Penzance. Troops of them tracking down Muggle-born witches and wizards and terrorizing Muggles themselves. I wonder…”  
   
“Bollocks.” Jared scrubbed a shaky hand down his face. “They’re…they’re not that bad are they? I mean, I can handle myself, right? Jensen?”  
   
“They’re as bad as Death Eaters sometimes, just without the fancy robes and wicked tattoo.” Jensen grabbed Jared by his shirt, his voice pleading. “Will you come with me? Let me take you somewhere safe?” Jensen shook his head when Jared tried to speak. “I know you can take care of yourself – I wasn’t implying that you can’t, but I’d do so much better if I didn’t have to worry, Jared…”  
   
“Okay.”  
   
Jensen paused mid-tirade. “Okay?”  
   
“I want you focused out there, and you’re right, you can’t do that if you’re worrying about me.” He pressed a quick kiss to Jensen’s forehead. “What do you need me to do?”  
   
“Come with me to Ackles Manor,” Jensen said, much to Jared’s surprise. “It’s the only place I know you’ll be safe.”

 

                                                                                        

 

Months before Tonks had summoned Jensen to the Isle of Skye to fend off a serious Dementor attack and tossed him back into Jared’s life while she was at it, he and his team had faced their toughest battle yet. They weren’t quite sure what sort of Dark Magic had triggered it, but the Dementors were multiplying, and the very thought itself was terrifying, never mind the actuality of it, seeing the sky dotted with hundreds of them, far from the tethers of Azkaban.  
   
They’d learnt a lot that battle, fought on the shores of Aberdeen, as wave after wave of Dementors had attacked them. They hadn’t been prepared, neither mentally nor physically, and they’d lost Samantha’s son and Lanette’s husband and brother. Three men – all of them strong, fierce wizards – fell that night, their souls sucked out of them with a ferocity that had left only their desiccated bodies behind as the others had watched helplessly.  
   
They’d only escaped with the coming of the dawn, and Jensen and Julian had worked their fingers to the bone perfecting their shields after that and, after a little chat with Fred and George, Jensen had infused their Auror robes with a Shield Charm; it’d worked brilliantly. One small victory, Jensen thought, unable to crow about it when he saw Sam and Alona cling to one another in their grief, when he watched Lanette become a shadow of herself, going so far as to sometimes forget that she had an infant son to care for, a little boy who was now fatherless; one who reminded Jensen of Jared so much that his heart ached for the man that boy would become someday.  
   
Such was life in dark times, he supposed, and the only way out was to win the bloody war.  
   
He never forgot that sense of despair, though, and it returned in full force, bitter and bleak when his team found Ted Tonks a month after his daughter had reported him missing, his mangled body barely recognisable after the Snatchers had done away with him, but for whatever it was worth, Jensen still brought him home to his family for a proper burial.  
   
Shortly thereafter, he and Jared attended his funeral, and a few weeks after that, they were also present as Tonks introduced them to her baby son, who she’d named Teddy, in honour of his late grandfather.  
   
Full circle, Jensen thought; he wondered how much more any of them could take.  
   
And, to think, he and Jared probably counted amongst the lucky ones.  
 

                                                                                      

   
“How’s Lanette?” Jensen asked Julian as soon as he returned to Ackles Manor and found Jonah Ware, Lanette’s six-month old son, once again cradled in Jared’s arms, Julian and Qualls doing their level best to entertain him and keep him giggling, which was a far sight better than usual, especially when the little mite decided to look around for his mum and bawled his eyes out when he didn’t find her.  
   
Julian sighed as Jensen kissed Jared and Jonah and then collapsed on the sofa next to them, tickling Jonah’s little foot as the baby quietly sucked his thumb. “Not well. She keeps…blacking out. Can’t remember who or where she is. Barely remembers us. Or even Jonah.” The older man frowned. “The Mediwitch from St. Mungo’s didn’t fare any better than we did; she suggested warding her at the hospital. I fear the worst.”  
   
Jensen buried his face in his hands as Jared gave the back of his neck a reassuring squeeze; he grabbed onto Jared's hand and held it, grounding himself. “We have to have hope. She’s a brilliant Auror, strong in mind and spirit; she has to get past this, and we can’t give up on her.”  
   
“Who said anything about giving up?” Julian muttered, leaning over to pat Jonah’s head as Qualls took the now-drowsy baby from Jared, shushing him gently as he bade them goodnight and headed off towards the nursery. Julian steepled his hands and stared at Jensen and Jared from across the coffee table. “I’ve been at this job a long while, Jensen, you know that.” He explained for Jared’s benefit: “Ever since its inception, Azkaban has had Dementors guarding it for the Ministry. Foul, loathsome creatures, and untrustworthy, but what other choice was there? The Auror Office eventually decided that someone should police them, and that’s how the ADU came into existence. Just a wizard or two, usually. I was the _only_ member of the ADU when I became an Auror; I got some assistance when Sirius Black escaped Azkaban a few years ago and the Dementors were let loose in the skies over Hogwarts, but our numbers only burgeoned to ten when they joined You-Know-Who’s ranks.”  
   
“How did you police them?” Jared asked. “Wouldn’t you’ve had to be near them to do that?”  
   
“Much of my life has been spent living in close proximity to the North Sea,” Julian explained, “and over the decades, I’ve learned a lot about them: how they feed; how they collect and keep the souls of their prisoners, either piece by piece, slowly driving them to madness, or all at once with the Kiss. Everything but how to kill them.”  
   
Jared shook his head in disbelief. “You must’ve had an extraordinarily happy life.”  
   
Julian chuckled. “Happiness is what you make of it. Family and friends are of the utmost importance, but also silly little things that serve no purpose but to make you smile. It all adds up.” He paused and looked at Jensen. “That’s why I worry for Lanette’s wellbeing. There is not a person alive who knows more about souls than I do. And hers is diminishing, Jensen. I can feel it but I have no idea how to stop it, or if it can be stopped at all, and she’s too stubborn to give up the fight, not when she’s already lost her only family to it.”  
   
“But she hasn’t, has she?” Jensen argued. “She’s still got Jonah!”  
   
“Who she can’t even remember some days,” Jared filled in sadly. “It’s unfathomable, but true.”  
   
Jensen huffed. “There has to be something we can do, if not for Lanette, then at least to figure out how to prevent a recurrence of what happened at Aberdeen. Something’s got to be able to kill them, or at least stop them from multiplying!”  
   
“Ending the war should do it,” Jared mumbled. Jensen and Julian stared at him in silence, blinking; he flushed. “It’s like basic Herbology; think about it. Dementors are thought to multiply when the conditions are favourable for them, right? So, generally, misery and despair everywhere is like succour for the soulless bastards. But if we win the war, the Light rises to power and their…umm…breeding grounds dry up, so eventually they’ll wither away and die, too.” He looked between Jensen and Julian. “It’s just that, well, easier said than done, innit? It is a _war_ , after all. Still have to fend them off when they attack, and you lot are the experts at that, but like I said yesterday: you can’t ignore the more immediate issues, like Snatcher attacks.”  
   
Jensen grinned at him, full of pride because this was Jared at his practical Hufflepuff best. He leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Speaking of Snatcher attacks, you’ll both be happy to know that my meeting with the ex-Hit Wizards went well.”  
   
“Good.” Julian folded his arms and smiled, shooting a particularly fond look in Jared’s direction. “They weren’t averse to the idea of working out from under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s umbrella?”  
   
“No. And not that the DMLE even really exists anymore; it’s just for show. Kingsley gave me the names of a few people he thought would be trustworthy and I met with them in Hyde Park,” Jensen informed them. “I told them to find a secure location and gather a team together, specifically to go after Snatcher troops, perhaps prevent a repeat of what happened to Ted Tonks. They know a number of members in the DMLE Patrol; they’re going to get them out in the general public, undercover, keep their noses to the ground and look out for hotspots of Dark activity. They were amenable; enthusiastic, even.”  
   
“Excellent,” Julian said, that satisfied smile still playing about his lips. “You two make a formidable team.” Jensen smirked as Jared ducked his head, smiling shyly; Julian laughed. “It’s to be expected of a soul-bonded pair, I suppose.”  
   
Jensen and Jared shot him identical startled looks, but Jared beat Jensen to the punch. “You what?”  
   
Julian looked a bit taken aback. “I said…”  
   
“Yeah, we heard what you said,” Jensen told him, “but Jared and I aren’t soul-bonded.”  
   
“Please,” Julian scoffed. “What’d I just tell you, lad? I know my way around souls and how they function. And I also know, as do you by now, Jensen, that soul-bonded individuals are the ones best equipped to repel Dementors. Why do you think you’re so good at this job? It’s not just your shield and your wand. It’s _you_. Inherently. I’m sure if Jared was a trained Auror, he’d be just as strong fighting beside you.”  
   
Jensen laughed, simply because he wasn’t quite sure what else to do, and Jared certainly wasn’t helping, gaping at Julian the way he was doing. “Soul-bonding is ancient magic. There are rites and rituals involved and it requires a very powerful third party to cast the Binding spells. Plural.” Jensen and Jared shared a look. “I think we would’ve remembered doing something like that.”  
   
“Hmmph,” Julian muttered, scratching his chin. He shook his head and pulled out his wand. “Hold out your right hands.” They did, albeit with some reluctance. Julian said no words out loud, but his lips moved infinitesimally as he focused on their upturned palms, his wand hovering a few inches above them. A warm, tickling sort of tingle started in the centre of Jensen’s palm, and Jared’s little gasp of surprise indicated that he, perhaps, had felt some similar sensation. Then, suddenly, a little furl of bronzish flame appeared in Jensen’s hand, tiny whorls of smoke licking at the air and Jensen’s skin without burning it. When Jensen looked at Jared’s hand, it was to see a small, bright green flame in his palm. Julian looked at them and smirked. “Ever heard the expression that your eyes are the windows to your souls?”  
   
Jensen looked at the flames he and Jared held and then back at Julian. “Yeah?”  
   
“Well, this spell reveals Soul-Bonds,” he explained. “Since Jared is bound to you, his flame is green – the colour of your eyes. Yours is…well, the closest thing to thing to the hazel of Jared’s eyes. Ergo: Soul-Bonded.” Julian ended the charm and leaned back in his chair.  
   
Both Jensen and Jared reflexively made fists as if to catch the elusive flames in their palms, but they disappeared; Jared sighed. “We’re not bonded, Julian. I mean, I may’ve wished – especially when I was younger – to bind myself to Jensen…”  
   
“You too?” Jensen laughed. “I remember thinking that the first night I met you.” He looked at Julian as Jared smiled and bit his lip. “He was this pathetic little eleven-year-old, chubby and adorable, with no friends because he was too shy to make them… I had a moment of madness where I just wanted to bind myself to him and keep him safe forever.”  
   
“Well, there you go. First step of the Binding ritual,” Julian said smugly. “Intent. You should look up the spell when you have the time. I’m sure your library here houses a copy of _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_.”  
   
Jensen blinked. “How about you give us the abridged version?”  
   
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “This started at Hogwarts, eh? I’m not surprised. All manners of mischief begin betwixt those hallowed walls.” He tapped a thin finger against his chin as he studied them. “If it was done without your knowledge, then perhaps your wishes were made in the presence of someone who had the power to grant them. How well did you know Dumbledore?”  
   
“Just as the Headmaster, not like a benevolent Cupid!” Jared chuckled. “I only spoke to him during the holidays, for Merlin’s sake!”  
   
Jensen chuckled. “Except for that one time when we…”  
   
“Crikey,” Jared groaned, “we agreed never to mention that again! I think I still have the scars from that detention he doled out to us!”  
   
“Good times.”  
   
“Idiot.”  
   
“So, not Dumbledore, then,” Julian deduced, using logic that was beyond Jensen; the very notion that he and Jared had been soul-bonded – which, hello, lasted a bloody eternity – without their knowledge was ludicrous. “And I really can’t see any of the professors going to all the trouble to organize the rites and rituals for a couple of under-aged wizards. I’m sure that goes against the school’s mandate.”  
   
“What exactly are these rites and rituals you keep referring to?” Jared asked. “Out of curiosity?”  
   
Julian shrugged. “The declaration of intent begins it, of course. Then the intent must be sealed in blood. Yours and his.”  
   
“Ridiculous,” Jensen scoffed. “Never happened. I think we’d remember if we exchanged body fluids.” Jared choked and Jensen groaned as his words registered. “Merlin! You know what I mean! Shut it, Julian!”  
   
“I didn’t say anything!”  
   
“I can hear you thinking, old man!”  
   
“Jensen,” Jared said suddenly, “that fight in the boys bathroom. We were both bleeding… Do you think?”  
   
Jensen bit his lip in thought. Shite. It was possible. “Maybe. Bloody hell. Pun and all.”  
   
“Sweat,” Julian said, looking far too interested in their predicament.  
   
“You what?”  
   
“First blood, then sweat, then tears.”  
   
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s Bollocks. Yeah. _Tons_ of sweat and tears. My sweat, his tears, the snivelling little snot.”  
   
“Oi!” Jared elbowed him in the stomach. “Try not to revert to your idiot thirteen-year-old self. Remember that you love me…” The corner of Jared’s mouth quirked up smugly. “Now _and_ then, obviously.” He looked at Julian excitedly. “What else?”  
   
“I don’t recall the precise incantation, or the order of the rites, but I think it went to the effect of: something fair and something foul; something taken and something freely given; a sorrow lost and a pleasure found; a favour begged, a token borrowed, a memory stolen; muddied in earth and cleansed in water; sealed with a kiss beneath the blessed bough of an evergreen; begun and ended with a binding of your wands.”  
   
Jensen and Jared were both rendered completely speechless; Jensen was pretty sure Jared, like Jensen himself, had mentally checked off every rite on that list: been there, done that. Multiple times.  
   
Julian’s brows practically rose to his hairline. “Well. Your expressions speak volumes.” He blinked. “Really? Beneath the blessed bough of an evergreen and you still didn’t cotton on that you were being bound to each other?”  
   
“No!” Jensen exclaimed, just as Jared sputtered and said, “It was a kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas! Everyone does that!”  
   
“Does everyone also bind their wands?” Julian asked.  
   
“Yeah, about that…” Jensen groaned as Jared turned to him in shock. “Don’t look at me like that! You were the one forever getting into trouble or getting lost in the bloody halls or…something or the other, like a sodding damsel in persistent distress.” Jared’s mouth quirked up at the corners, fond amusement in his eyes. “Shut up.”  
   
“You loved me so much, Jensen. I wish I’d’ve known it then.”  
   
“Merlin’s Beard, _shut up_ , Jared. It was a fairly straightforward spell, all right? I was not bonkers over you in the beginning. Do you even know how annoying you were?” He sighed. “You remember that Weasley Clock at The Burrow? The one that tells Mrs. W. where everyone is at all times?”  
   
“The one that had a mark for both ‘Dentist’ _and_ ‘Mortal Peril’?” Jared asked.  
   
“Yeah, that’s the one. How do you think it keeps track? Wand-binding, and a Plottable Charm on those that don't own a wand, like little children. We have one because Father doesn’t know the meaning of the word _privacy_ ,” Jensen lamented. “Except in our case, it’s a lot fancier and contained within a mirror, so it looks a bit like a Foe-Glass, only we call it a Family-Glass. Father kept it in his study, and instead of little hands with our pictures on them, our reflections alternate in the mirror as writing scrolls below it, like: Joshua’s at work, or Mackenzie’s at Marks and Spencer’s – I dunno why she loves that Muggle shop so much, but there you go – or Jensen’s at… _shite!_ ”  
   
Jared chuckled. “What?”  
   
“I bonded our wands to keep track of you at school,” Jensen said, his mind racing along with his pulse. “I did it back in your first bloody year! Do you remember?”  
   
“When you told me about wandlore?”  
   
“Yeah…and if the Soul-Binding Charm was sealed with a kiss… _Fuck._ ”  
   
Jared and Julian stared at each other before looking back at him, speaking in unison. “What?”  
   
“The moment that spell was sealed, Jared – which happened in my seventh year,” Jensen said, biting his lip, “your face would’ve appeared in the Family-Glass.”  
   
“ _What?_ ”  
   
Julian nodded in sudden understanding. “Of course. The spell makes Jared a bona fide member of your family.”  
   
Jared gaped and Jensen groaned. “That’s why Father had Danneel all wrapped up in a pretty bow and waiting for me when I returned from Connemara. He knew!”  
   
“How…odd,” Julian said while Jared tried to recover his wits. “Jensen, you mentioned you were both estranged for long periods of time in the past. Didn’t either of you ever think it strange that you never longed for the affection or companionship of another person? I mean, I recall bits of my own randy youth – how did you both go about your lives not being…er…intimate with other people and never wonder why?”  
   
Jensen did a double take. “ _That’s_ why? Merlin! That’s why I could never…well, you know…with anyone else?”  
   
“Yes, Jensen. Although, some people might call that being in love,” Jared said grumpily.  
   
Julian laughed. “My dear boy, it is impossible to cast the Soul-Binding spell on two people who don’t share a soul-deep sort of love. No matter what Jensen claims, it’s moot without love. And not just any sort of love, Love at First Sight. It’s not just fodder for fairytales, you know.”  
   
“Blimey,” Jared groaned, and yeah, Jensen sympathized.  
   
“I feel like I’ve been stripped of every ounce of manhood I ever possessed,” Jensen grumbled, playfully pinching Jared’s side. “You never had much to begin with, so you’re alright.”  
   
“Ha. Ha.”  
   
“Small price to pay,” Julian mused, the smug bastard. “I would suggest, though, that if you two ever get ‘round to looking for the culprit who cast the spell, start with the hopeless romantics first.”

                                                                                       

 

“Hello, Hufflepuff.”  
   
“Can’t startle me, I saw you coming.”  
   
“Somehow I knew you’d be here.” Jensen wrapped his arms around Jared’s waist from behind and rested his chin on Jared’s shoulder as they watched the reflections shift in the Family-Glass. At that moment in time, far away in Australia, he saw the austere reflection of his father, who was At Work, while his mother’s smiling reflection waved at him from where she was At Home. Mackenzie was Out with Friends, and Joshua and Danneel… Jensen blinked in disbelief. “ _What?_ ”  
   
Jared chuckled. “Yeah. It appears your big brother has finally made his move.” Too right, Jensen thought, watching Joshua and Danneel smile bashfully back at him; they were apparently At the Park. Jensen and Jared came next, a true reflection of them in the Family-Glass as it proclaimed that they were In Father’s Study, Ackles Manor.  
   
“It’s eerie,” Jared commented. “But I s’pose it comes in handy in a pinch.”  
   
“Father has one in our house in Sydney as well; I wish I’d known that you’d be in it, too,” Jensen told him. “It would’ve made my life a lot easier back then.”  
   
“Mmm…” Jared traced his hand along Jensen’s bare forearm until he entwined his fingers with Jensen’s. “Does it worry you that someone Soul-Bonded us without our knowledge?”  
   
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely bonkers,” Jensen admitted, “but in the grand scheme of things? I’m just really grateful. And happy.”  
   
“Well, obviously.” They watched Joshua and Danneel grin goofily at each other; Jensen snorted and Jared laughed. “I know, right?”  
   
“Took him long enough,” Jensen said fondly. “Give him another five years, he might even propose.”  
   
“I was thinking ten,” Jared quipped.  
   
“Speaking of proposals,” Jensen mentioned nonchalantly; Jared’s whole body froze. Jensen’s lips quirked but he held back his smile. “I was going to ask you, you know, but our mysterious Soul-Binder saved me the trouble.”  
   
Jared sputtered indignantly. “I beg your pardon?”  
   
“We’re bound to each other for an eternity, Jared,” Jensen drawled, taking the piss as usual; “marriage would just be overkill.”  
   
“Kiss my arse, why don’t you?”  
   
“Ooh, you have the best ideas, babe.” Jensen perked right up, goosing Jared, delighting in his affronted little squawk.  
   
“Not in your father’s study of all places, Jensen! Merlin! The man hates me enough already,” Jared grumbled.  
   
“He hates me, too,” Jensen said, glib as usual whenever Jared brought up his the subject of his sire. “You’re not as special as you think.” He grabbed Jared’s arm and dragged him out of the offending room and up the stairs, but their amorous escape took a detour into the nursery when they were thwarted by a panicked Fuller who’d apparently been trying – and failing spectacularly – to put Jonah to bed. As the baby turned up the volume from crying to outright bawling, Fuller dumped him into Jensen’s arms and made a run for it.  
   
Jared rolled his eyes. “Coward.”  
   
Jensen had to agree, and it may have been selfish of him but if he’d had a Time-Turner and the chance to relive that moment, which very possibly could’ve been his last opportunity to make love to Jared, he’d’ve gone back and forced Fuller to grow a pair and become a better babysitter.  
 

                                                                                       

 

When the final call to arms came, Jensen and Jared were in the midst of a fun but fierce duel.   
   
They were in the basement chambers of the Manor, rooms that had once been used as dungeons, back when a member of the Ackles clan had always served as a Magical Magistrate for the region, long before the Ministry had ever come into existence; now they served as training rooms for the Aurors to practice their defensive spells, where Jensen had taken every spare moment he’d had to train Jared to the best of his ability.  
   
It was Qualls who came bursting into the duelling chamber, in full Auror uniform, panting and wide-eyed. “It’s time,” he declared. “They’re on the move. The Hit Wizard Patrols from London all the way up north are reporting a massive influx of Dark Apparation, headed directly for Hogwarts. There’ve even been sightings of giants on the move.”  
   
Jensen only spared a moment to glance at Jared before all three of them Apparated upstairs to the dining room, where they’d held all their tactical meetings. The rest of the team was already present, and Jensen joined them in putting on his ADU uniform, checking and rechecking the Shielding Charms as Jared watched in worried silence.  
   
Julian strode in seconds later. “I’ve just gotten word from the Norwegian Auror Office. Their people in Stavenger have confirmed escalated Dementor activity over the North Sea. If they take to the skies now, they’ll probably be in Hogsmeade within in a couple of hours.”  
   
“Fuck,” Jensen muttered. “If they get past the village and onto Hogwarts grounds, the spell-casting ability of anyone fighting for the Light will be greatly diminished.”  
   
“Exactly,” Julian agreed. “We have to cut them off at the pass, before they can cross the Black Lake.”  
   
“To Hogsmeade, then,” Qualls said, swallowing hard. “This is it.”  
   
“It is,” Lanette said from where she’d come in behind Julian. “Count me in.”  
   
“No,” Julian vetoed immediately. “No, Lanette. I cannot, with a clear conscience, allow it.”  
   
“You have no choice, Julian,” she stated impassively, sounding a lot like she had when Jensen’d first met her, her singular focus on the job at hand. “Either I fight with you, or I fight alone; it matters not; I’m still fighting and you know very well that my Nudu is the strongest Patronus of all.”  
   
“What about Jonah?” Jensen asked. Lanette looked at him quizzically, so Jensen reminded her. “Your _son_.”  
   
Lanette blinked in confusion for a moment before her expression cleared. “If I have a son, then he is best protected if I fight.”  
   
“Lanette…”  
   
“I’m coming,” she insisted stubbornly, and Jensen huffed, turning to Jared as his last straw.  
   
Jared pulled him aside angrily. “We don’t have time to argue about this, so I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.” Jensen was rendered powerless to speak, by the ferocious gleam in Jared’s eyes alone. “If you think I’m not fighting this war, then you’re not worthy of your House! I may not be any good against Dementors but I can help against Dark wizards, and the villagers at Hogsmeade will need all the help they can get. I’m coming, too. Fowler is more than equipped to keep Jonah safe.”  
   
Jensen didn’t like it, but Jared was right; he nodded reluctantly. The Order needed people like Jared out there on the battleground, those who were fighting for the greater good.  
   
“Fowler!” he barked, and the stalwart house-elf – one who, along with his predecessors, had served the Ackles family for generations – appeared immediately. Jensen stooped to speak to him. “Guard Jonah with every power you possess. _Please_.”  
   
“I will guard him with my life, Master Jensen,” Fowler replied, his face resolute. He reached out and held Jensen’s hand, blessing him, Jensen knew; he felt a shiver run through him at the clammy touch. “Be safe, young master. Return unto us.” The elf reached out to hold and shake Jared’s hand before he Apparated away.  
   
A few minutes later, Jensen kissed Jared, told him he loved him, and Portkeyed out, refusing to say farewell, because he didn’t want that to be the last word he’d ever say.  
   
A couple of hours later, a second before he fell to the ground, hit by a powerful Dark spell he didn’t even recognize, let alone shield himself against, he regretted his decision.  
   
He really hadn’t meant to die without saying goodbye.

                                                                                          

 


	13. Chapter 13

  
  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/qblackheart/pic/000bawtx/)  
_Jensen, to himself, as he randomly wondered if this was quite what the Dark Bastard had in mind when he decided to bring the war to Hogwarts. Sometimes Jensen scared himself with the inexplicable way his delirious mind worked in dire situations._  
 

                                                                                       

 

The first thing Jared did when Jensen and the others left was tap his Falcons badge with his wand; he’d make the call for help, for everyone to head to Hogsmeade, for it was the only way to get anywhere near the school. If the team chose to answer it, all the better. If not, he certainly wouldn’t begrudge them that choice.  
   
Unlike the Aurors, he couldn’t use the Portkey at the Manor; it would only work for those who had sworn allegiance to the Order and even though that’s where Jared’s loyalties lay, he hadn’t taken any oath and was stuck travelling the old fashioned way, grabbing his broom and flying to the nearest public Portkey that would take him as close as possible to Hogsmeade.  
   
He wasn’t too surprised to find pandemonium when he arrived there almost an hour later, witches and wizards Apparating into the village willy-nilly, some scurrying towards the Three Broomsticks while others headed in the direction of the Hog’s Head Inn. He decided to go to Madam Rosmerta’s himself; if anyone knew what was going on, it’d be her. And she was a lot less scary to deal with than Aberforth Dumbledore.  
   
But Jared never even made it that far.  
   
In the blink of an eye, there was a sudden swoosh of black smoke, the telltale trails of Death Eaters Apparating, and he and a few others who’d been on the road with him drew their wands, taking cover along the darkened walls of nearby shops as they stayed vigilant.  
   
Then all hell broke loose.  
   
Spells shot and crackled through the night air, wand beams flashing streaks of blue and green and red as hexes and jinxes and curses were cast haphazardly, raised voices rending the air as incantations and wards were shouted every which way.  
   
Jared held his own, neatly deflecting a Stinging Hex sent his way but searing his hand when a Flagrante Curse hit the wall he’d held onto catch his balance. Casting a quick healing spell on his palm, he ducked into the open doorway of the store – Honeydukes – and, dumping his broom in a corner, made his way through to the other side, stealthily coming up behind three Snatchers shooting spells at a group of young wizards who looked about Neville’s age; he acted purely on impulse, calling to mind every trick Jensen’d taught him about active combat.  
   
“ _Confringo!_ ” he yelled, the Blasting Curse shooting out of his wand, explosive enough to startle the trio of Dark wizards as Jared hit them with a Full Body-Bind Curse, one after the other in rapid-fire succession.  
   
“Cheers, mate!” one of the lads called out to him before they all headed back into the fray, wands at the ready.  
   
Jared fought alongside them for a while, but ended up detouring around the Post Office, distracted by the sight of the old Post Master being bounced up and down in the air by his ankle; the Levicorpus Jinx in the hands of a Snatcher, it seemed. Jared made short work of him – his Stunning Spells were better than Jensen’s – and once he’d gotten the old wizard down, he decided to accompany him to the Hog’s Head, where he’d be safer; that’s when he felt it.  
   
It was like being hit by a Cruciatus Curse he imagined, but apart from falling to his knees, much to the dismay of the Post Master, Jared knew _he_ was fine.  
   
The pain he was feeling was _Jensen’s_.  
   
“Are you all right, lad?” the Post Master asked, his harried gaze shifting between Jared and the safe harbour of the Hog’s Head.  
   
“I’m fine,” Jared assured him through gritted teeth. “You go on ahead. I need to go back.”  
   
“Keep safe, lad,” the old man said, giving his arm a squeeze before he hobbled off.  
   
Not knowing what else to do, Jared pointed his wand at the ground in front of him as he thought of Jensen and cast his Patronus; it was no longer a puppy. He blinked at the shaggy, full-grown Sheepdog Patronus in front of him, gasping in shock and reeling from another phantom bolt of pain. “Find Jensen for me,” he ordered it, gasping. “He’s in trouble.”  
   
His Patronus barked once and then turned tail and ran, streaking down the village road like a sideways bolt of lightning. Jared summoned his broom and it came, zipping through the air, stalling right in front of him. He jumped on board and sped up into the night sky, tracking the path of his Patronus past the train station, dodging dark spells like he was flying through an obstacle course.  
   
When his Patronus edged into the woods that led down towards the Black Lake, he flew lower, below the treetops, his heart pounding even though it felt like the blood flow through his veins went treacle-slow, as if he was living through his last few breaths. “Hurry!” he called down to his Sheepdog and it burst forward faster, just as Jared saw the glint of a fallen ADU shield on the ground ahead of him.  
   
He _dived_ , beating his Patronus to Jensen’s side, hurtling himself off his broom as he picked up Jensen’s limp body in his arms. “No, no, _no!_ _Jensen!_ ”  
   
But Jensen wasn’t moving; he was barely even breathing and, in that moment, Jared knew what true fear felt like. He had no idea what to do, but he did know one thing: Losing Jensen was not an option.  
   
The matter was taken out of his hands when he felt rather than saw his Patronus out of the corner of his eye, still moving swiftly. In the very next second, it slammed into Jensen’s prone body, silver light and a sharp, crackling sound – like _Electricity_ , Jared suddenly recalled from his Muggle Studies class – the force of impact so strong that Jared was sent reeling.  
   
When he opened his eyes again, it was to find that he’d been thrown at least fifteen feet from Jensen’s side; he shook his head to clear it. When he refocused, it was to see Jensen sitting up in the dirt, coughing to clear his lungs. “Jensen!”  
   
“Jared?” Jensen asked, clearly startled to see him there. “ _Accio_ _wand!_ ” His wand zoomed right into Jensen’s outstretched hand. “ _Lumos!_ ” Jensen blinked as Jared got up off his arse and frantically crawled closer, supporting Jensen as they both stood. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Jensen sputtered angrily, shoving his lit wand tip in Jared’s face, as if just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating Jared’s mere presence.  
   
“Saving your life, you stupid prat!” Jared growled. “You promised me you wouldn’t get dead!”  
   
“Merlin,” Jensen breathed, staggering slightly; Jared kept a firm grip on him. “Was I? Dead?”  
   
“Close enough to scare me silly.” Jared cupped his face in his hands and leaned down, practically snarling his words. “Don’t do that again.”  
   
“Okay. _Okay,_ ” Jensen soothed, patting Jared’s chest. Then he smirked. “My hero.”  
   
“Did you hit your head when you went down?” Jared asked affectionately.  
   
“No, but I’ve always wanted to say that to you. How’d you manage it?”  
   
“My Patronus.”  
   
“Your little Poodle?”  
   
“My _Sheepdog_ ,” Jared huffed, his breath misting the night air. Both he and Jensen froze at the sight.  
   
“They’re getting closer.” Jensen’s expression turned to one of steely determination. “Go back to the village. I’ll go down to the shores of the Lake – that’s where the others were headed when we were ambushed by Death Eaters. Hopefully the team fared better than I did.”  
   
“I’m coming with you,” Jared insisted, clamping his hand over Jensen’s mouth when Jensen tried to speak. “No arguments. I’ve got your back. This place is teeming with Dark wizards.”  
   
“This does not bode well for either of us, babe,” Jensen warned, albeit fondly. “I’m off to fight hundreds of Dementors, hopefully with a little help from my team, if they’re still alive, while you watch my back? By _yourself?_ I’m not seeing us surviving the night, but right now?” Jensen grinned up at him, wild and positively gleeful. “I’m just grateful to fight standing by your side.”  
   
Jared’s smile was equally feral. “You and I both, love.”  
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
“Sorry to interrupt your romantic little interlude, lads,” a snide voice called out from behind Jared, “but how about we focus on more pressing matters for now?”  
   
“Sheppard!” Jensen cried out before Jared could turn around. “Falcons!”  
   
“You called,” Williams grinned maniacally when Jared’s eyes goggled, “we came!”  
   
“How’d you find us?” Jared asked as they bridged the gap and greeted the rest of the team; everyone but Emily, Rob, Rachel and Mark had showed up – Jared was even glad to see Misha, that ruddy, lovable idiot – and they definitely had more players present than there’d been at Portee.  
   
“You were the only one on a broom,” Beaver gruffly informed him. “We saw you streak out over the woods when we Portkeyed in and followed.”  
   
“Thanks for coming. We can use all the back-up we can get right now,” Jensen told them as he started walking. “Let’s head down to the lake. The other Aurors should be there, but if not, I could use the help of those of you who can cast a Patronus. Stay vigilant, though; the agents of the Dark are everywhere.”  
   
Jared picked up his broom as they followed Jensen, as stealthily as they could manage, because ahead of them, through the trees, the signature streaks of jinxes and curses could be seen shooting through the air. It was colder now, but the despair they’d felt in Portee hadn’t hit them yet, so maybe they could spare a few moments to plan a counter-attack before the Dementors reached the outer shores of the Black Lake; time was a luxury in the heat of battle, though; Jared knew they’d be winging most of it.  
   
Jensen held up a hand when they got closer to the wand-fight on the pebbled beach of the lakeshore, where they could now see a group of Death Eaters circling the six Aurors of the ADU. He silently split the team into three groups and sent two of them off in opposite directions while he and Jared and a few of the others moved forwards until they all burst out of the cover of the trees as one, startling everyone around them and making quick work of the Dark wizards, felling them all and sustaining no injuries themselves.  
   
“Jensen!” Alona called out. “Thank, Merlin! I thought we’d lost you.”  
   
“I thought I lost me, too,” Jensen responded, smirking.  
   
“Er…” Fuller looked at the witches and wizards surrounding them. “Isn’t that your old Quidditch team?”  
   
“Well,” Williams replied, “you guys helped us out in Portee. We’re here to return the favour.”  
   
“Right,” Sheppard acknowledged as the Aurors grinned at them. “So what’s the plan?”  
   
“Fend off the Dementors for as long as we can,” Samantha told him, deadpan as usual, “and try and live to tell the tale.”  
   
“Excellent plan,” Sheppard drawled caustically, visibly deflating; he wasn’t the only one. “I realize that you lot are the experts here, but if there’s one thing _we_ know best, it’s Quidditch strategy. I think it’ll help us when our guests arrive.” He shuddered and nodded out over the lake; everyone turned to see a dark cloud of Dementors edging closer over the horizon.  
   
“What’ve you got in mind?” Fuller asked.  
   
“We split up,” Sheppard suggested hurriedly. “Those of us who can cast Patronuses will be on the front lines at the shores of the lake. Defense and Offense. Beaters and Chasers. Our Incorporeal Patronus Shield and your Corporeal Patronuses. The ones who can’t cast the spell will fend off any attack from the rear – our Keepers – and we’ll blast them out of the bloody woods if we have to - Seek them out and take them down.” Everyone stared at him in shock; Sheppard shrugged. “I’m not the manager of this team for nothing, you know?”  
   
“And you’ll be alright with the Dementors so close?” Beaver asked, not pulling any punches. “Or will you be off somewhere cowering in a corner?”  
   
Sheppard barked out a laugh; it made him look a tad unhinged. “If the manky bastards want to snog me so badly, they’re going to have to bloody well catch me first.”  
   
“Right on!” Williams shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”  
   
“Well, it’s worth a shot,” Julian agreed. “Aurors! All in!”  
   
“ _All In!_ ” the seven members of the ADU shouted. Then Jensen grinned and waved them to silence.  
   
“No – if we do this, we’re doing it right!” he exclaimed, holding his hand out. Jared smirked and slapped his hand on top of Jensen’s, the Falcons following suit and the Aurors joining in as well. “We’re in this war to win it!” Jensen shouted. “But if we cannot win it…”  
   
The Falcons roared as one: “… _let us break a few heads!_ Falcons, fly! Oi! Oi! Oi!”  
   
The Aurors laughed as the team split up, Cindy and Misha leading the players who couldn’t cast the anti-Dementor charm away from the shores; as they flew off, everyone else ran down to the edge of the lake, taking a stand, those who could cast a Corporeal Patronus flanked on either side by their companions who would be casting the Patronus Shield, all of them watching as the Dementor cloud rolled in, past the point where the invisible dome of Hogwarts' protective shield had fallen, fast and furiously, almost halfway across the lake now; halfway to Hogwarts.  
   
Jared hoped to high Heaven that they would never reach the school; if they did, the Aurors and the students within – like Neville, and, Merlin, even Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys – wouldn’t be much use with their magical powers so severely diminished by the Dementors’ dominion in the air above the castle walls.  
   
They had to stick together on this; teamwork was their only hope.  
   
That’s when a sudden thought struck him; he reached out and grabbed Jensen’s arm.  
   
“Jensen,” he breathed, his voice hushed with excitement, “back in Portee, when we cast the Patronus Shield, we did it together! As one!”  
   
Jensen looked at him quizzically. “Yeah, well, we’ll be casting together now, too.”  
   
“No! We cast it _together_ , so much so that our wand beams intersected. I think _that’s_ what made the Shield so strong, otherwise we’d’ve never held off seven Dementors until your Manticore came along to chase them away!”  
   
“Intersecting wand beams?” Jensen looked at him in consideration. “That could have disastrous effects, Jared.”  
   
“Or it could just about give us the boost of power we need, because Jensen – look!” He pointed right at the living black shroud moving ever closer. “There may be _thousands_ of them!”  
   
“What’s going on?” Julian asked; at Jensen’s nod, Jared filled him and the others in.  
   
“What do you think?”  
   
It was Lanette who responded first, and she sounded wickedly gleeful. “It’s insanity, obviously. But it just might work.”  
   
“ _Or_ we could all die in an explosion the magnitude of which has thus far never been seen in wand warfare,” Qualls quipped, but he was grinning too.  
   
“Let’s do it,” Julian declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “On my count. On three. And no matter what happens around us – no matter who amongst us falls – those still standing must keep your focus steady and your resolve strong! They must not be allowed to cross the lake!”  
   
Everyone nodded in terse agreement and they waited for his word. Julian continued to watch the Dementors’ progress with a trained eye, waiting for the right moment to launch their counter-attack, but just as he opened his mouth, Jared shouted.  
   
“Wait!”  
   
Julian gaped at him. “ _Now what?_ ”  
   
“I always, _always_ regret moments like this, when I should’ve done something and didn’t,” he sputtered, with an apologetic look at Julian. Then he turned, grabbing Jensen, who squawked in surprise but said nothing as Jared drew him close, breathing against his soft mouth. “No regrets,” Jared whispered, taking a split second to gaze into Jensen’s eyes, for perhaps one last time, before inching closer and kissing him soundly before pulling back. “There. Now I’m ready.”  
   
He heard Fuller groan, but Jensen snorted out a laugh. “Brat.”  
   
It set everyone off, from chuckles to outright giggles and a couple of people down the line, Jared saw Kim grab Jim Beaver and kiss him, while Jake and Sebastian went at it _with tongue_ , and Fuller threw up his arms in disgust, Samantha laughing and doubtless swatting him for his curmudgeonly ways; he appeared to come to a sudden decision, then, hauling her close and planting a passionate kiss on her surprised mouth.  
   
“Waited ten bloody years to do that,” Fuller muttered as Samantha blushed, blinking up at him as if she’d never seen him before. “Now I can damn well die happy.”  
   
“Merlin,” Julian groaned. “Can I start the count now?”  
   
“By all means.” Jared grinned. At least their spirits couldn’t get any higher, he reckoned, exchanging one last happy look with Jensen; every little thing helped. Then the rest of them – Jensen, the five coaches, the six Aurors, Aldis, Kim, Jake, Seb, and Jared – braced themselves for Julian’s signal as he started counting, slow and steady as the Dementors made their final approach.  
   
“One.” Two hundred feet. “Two.” One hundred feet. “ _Three!_ ”  
   
“ _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ”  
   
Seventeen flashes of bright silver light shot out over the Black Lake as the witches and wizards casting the spell intertwined their wand beams as one, causing a gigantic mercurial wave of power to explode forward, the shrill sound of it deafening and the backlash almost knocking them all off their feet.  
   
The Dementor advance froze in its forward momentum, stayed by the surge of the Corporeal Patronus Shield – because that’s what it looked like – like a solid sheet of bright stars, or a swathe of diamonds, glittering over the dark waters of the lake as it moved infinitesimally forward, driving the Dementors back.  
   
Jared was so focused on the Patronus that he almost dropped his wand when Richard fell out of the sky in front of him, Cindy zooming in and catching him just before he hit the ground, dropping him off on the shoreline before taking to the sky again, shooting spell after spell from her wand. Richard looked like he was frothing at the mouth with anger. “You broke my broom, you evil git!” he yelled at someone behind the front line, alerting Jared and the others to the enemy at their backs as he shot a jinx at a would-be attacker.  
   
Their minds steeled and their wands still focused on the Patronus Shield, none of the ones on the front lines broke formation. Not when a Cracker Jinx went off in the vicinity of Lanette, Williams and Devine, sending them all to their knees, not when Fuller and Beaver were hit by Stinging Hexes, and not when Jensen, Julian, and Jared himself were swiped by a powerful _Incendio_ , one that set all their robes afire.  
   
“ _Aguamenti!_ ” Richard shouted, and a jet of water shot out of his wand to dampen the fire before it could spread and burn them all.   
   
Behind them, another blast sounded and Jared felt the heat of the explosion at their backs, but even as his mind focused on maintaining the Patronus, he couldn’t help but get distracted by the unbelievable sight in front of him; he wasn’t the only one; even Jensen and Julian gasped in shock, for rising out of the lake, right at Richard’s back, was the Giant Squid, its massive tentacles ascending, waving dangerously closer as water sluiced off them in rivulets, drenching Richard as he slowly turned.  
   
He wasn’t quick enough.  
   
The Squid grabbed him about the waist and lifted him high up into the air while it reached out with a number of its other tentacles, up and over the heads of the Aurors and Falcons as it did who-knew-what to the people behind them.  
   
Jared knew not to worry when Richard laughed from his lofty advantage and, whooping fiendishly, kept up the attack. “Yeah! That’ll teach you to break my broom, you fucker! Take that! Get that blighter, Inky!”  
   
The Squid moved away with Richard in tow, hurling a few Snatchers into the lake as it went, their bodies skipping across the water like pebbles. Jensen and Jared looked at each other in stunned disbelief before roaring with laughter, the others on the front line joining in, their Patronus Shield burgeoning with renewed vitality.  
   
“I’ve always had a soft spot for that cephalopod,” Jensen yelled; Jared nodding and grinning as they watched Richard and the animal forge a friendly bond.  
   
But, because life tends to be unfair in general, that’s when Death Eaters began Apparating on the shores of the Black Lake.  
   
In _front_ of them.  
   
Terror gripped Jared; it must’ve been the same for everyone there because the Patronus Shield faltered for a second before everyone concentrated again, knowing they had to trust that their friends would defend them to the end.  
   
“Shite!” Misha yelled, landing in front of Julian as Cindy and Genevieve flew down to flank him. “You lot keep at it, we’ll fend them off as best we can!”  
   
The resulting skirmish was ugly. These dark wizards weren’t pulling their punches, and their weapon of choice appeared to be the Cruiciatus Curse. Soon Genevieve and Cindy were both writhing on the ground, convulsing in pain as Misha tried to protect them from further harm.  
   
“Focus!” Julian yelled. “Don’t lose focus!”  
   
Just then, the Giant Squid moved closer, intent, it seemed, on knocking the dark wizards down, but one of the Death Eaters turned on it, her wand pointed at the tentacle holding Richard as she shouted: “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”  
   
“ _No!_ ” Jared screamed, along with Jensen and the rest of the Falcons, as a blinding green bolt of light shot from the Death Eater’s wand, straight at Richard.  
   
The Squid raised another one of its tentacles just in time to protect Richard, the animal shrieking in agony as the Killing Curse hit its flesh, the sound piercing the air and reverberating through the water, shooting ripples across the surface of the once-placid lake. It dropped Richard, the tentacle that’d been hit retracting as it died, desiccating to dust from the tip up as the Squid retreated back into its home.  
   
From beside Jared, Jensen roared in anger, and before he could even process what Jensen was doing, he’d hurled his ADU shield – it was mighty but nowhere near as heavy as it looked – at the Squid, neatly severing the dying limb from its body and cutting off the deadly curse in its tracks. Everyone stared, stunned, as the Squid sunk below the lake’s surface, injured but still alive.  
   
Jensen’s shield circled then, hurtling through the air – like a bloody boomerang or something – as it headed for the Death Eater who’d cast the Killing Curse, slicing the witch’s masked head off. Jared squeezed his eyes shut at the sight, gasping for breath and reeling in horror as the shield flew back into Jensen’s waiting hand, streaked with blood and ink.  
   
In the next instant, there was an enraged clamour and Jensen was hit by a Cruciatus Curse, courtesy of one of the dead Death Eater’s mates, too quickly for Jensen to shield himself against it. He fell to his knees, screaming, but he didn’t give up on them, his wand hand frighteningly steady as he slowly stood back up, twitching and convulsing but staying strong. Jared ached with helplessness as he watched Jensen suffer; it was almost too much to take.  
   
“Stand your ground!” Julian called out, as if he knew exactly what Jared was thinking. “Stay the course! We’re almost there!”  
   
They were nowhere near _there_ , Jared knew, but that didn’t matter. They had more pressing concerns, and luckily the others knew it.  
   
Richard came to Misha’s aide and they were soon joined by Katie and Matt. It was a desperate last ditch attempt to buy the front line some time, to try and get their Patronus Shield to push out further and chase the Dementors back and keep them away. The air was fraught with palpable tension as the remaining Falcons – even Gen and Cindy had struggled to their feet – stood by them at the frontline, some with their wands pointed forwards and some facing behind them.  
   
It seemed hopeless, but as Great Aunt Callie had always told him, every dark cloud had a shiny silver lining; Jared had never believed it more than he did in that very moment, when a hail of _tridents_ flew out of the water, arcing elegantly through the air with lethal precision, one by one, finding their targets and sinking into the unsuspecting backs of the Death Eaters in front of them, every single one of them falling to the beach, dead.  
   
“What the bloody _hell?_ ” Misha sputtered, taking the words right out of Jared’s mouth.  
   
“Merpeople!” Julian cried, all but cackling with joy. “The Selkies of the Black Lake have joined the fight!” He glanced up and down the ranks of Aurors and Falcons standing by him. “Bash on! _Bash on!_ ”  
   
They did, all of them, elation singing through their veins like a live force, zipping from bone to blood to skin to wand as power surged into the Shield, making it grow and flourish, as Merpeople rose from the depths of the lake, arrows and lances and tridents sailing through the air as they struck out against the Snatchers who were still attacking from behind, from the woods on the edge of Hogsmeade.  
   
“Look!” Jensen yelled suddenly. “Look at the Shield! Look what it’s becoming!”  
   
They all looked – _all_ of them, from the Snatchers to the Merpeople – watching, mouths agape in horror and disbelief, as their Patronus Shield glittered brilliantly and morphed into something… _unbelievable_.  
   
Jared was stunned. “It’s… It’s a… _Dementor!_ ”  
   
Qualls sounded like he was choking on air. “Is that even possible? Julian! How the bloody hell is that possible?”  
   
“I don’t bloody well know!” Julian shouted back, looking just as mystified as the rest of them. “But it’s driving them away! It’s working!”  
   
Sure enough, the Dementor Patronus (Merlin, but that was the very definition of an oxymoron if anyone needed it; Jared would never get his mind wrapped around that thought, _ever_ , not even if he survived this endless night and lived to be a hundred) rose high up into the sky, luminescent and so radiant that it blinded them even from afar, before it stilled completely.  
   
Then, as everyone watched with bated breath, it rushed forward as swiftly as liquid lightning, streaking through the sky after its terrified prey – and how was _that_ for turnabout being fair play? – sending the horde of Dementors fleeing back across the water, away from Hogwarts and back to where they came from.  
   
The ones that were fast enough to escape, that is. Most of the retreating Dementors, though – the vast majority of them – were not as fleet of flight. They were shrouded by the Dementor Patronus, engulfed in the folds of its… _cloak_ , their very essence banished from the outside in, _killing_ them, plumes of slate grey smoke billowing from their gaping mouths and clouding up the air as the tatters of their robes fell like black rain, hitting the glassy surface of the lake and disappearing for good beneath its dark depths.  
   
As the charcoal sky cleared, as the stars shone through again, as the glorious crescent moon came back into view once more, one by one, the wands of the ones casting the Patronus Charm lowered, all of them watching in awe as the Dementor Patronus raced out over the lake, as far as it could go, before slowly dissipating into the obsidian darkness beyond.  
   
And just like that, it was done.  
   
It was Jensen who broke the stunned silence.  
   
“Fuck me,” he said. “I dunno about you lot, but that was bloody brilliant fun. Who wants to go again?”  
   
Jared had barely swatted him across the back of his head when, suddenly, all of them – every single one of them – doubled over, shaking in pain as a voice spoke, cold and frightening, slithery as a serpent as it coiled around inside their heads, hissing its words.  
   
It was the first time Jared allowed the name to enter his thoughts: Voldemort.  
 

 

_You have fought valiantly, but in vain._  
   
_I do not wish this._  
   
_Every drop of Magical blood spilled is a terrible waste._  
   
_I, therefore, command my forces to retreat._  
   
_In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity._

   
                                                                                              

 


	14. Chapter 14

  


 

                                          

 

It couldn’t’ve been mere coincidence, Jared thought, that slimy git Voldemort ordering a retreat just as the Dementors had been cast into oblivion.  
   
“What now?” Beaver asked.  
   
“We head to Hogwarts,” Jensen said, before anyone could say otherwise. He reached out and grabbed Jared’s hand. “We’ve got friends there; family, too.”  
   
“Neville,” Jared muttered, shaking his head. “That boy’d bloody well be all right or I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do to Great Aunt Augusta.”  
   
“Quickest way there is to fly,” Sheppard remarked. “Over the lake. No way of telling if the Anti-Apparation wards would’ve been put back up. Can’t trust these evil blighters not to attack when we least expect them to.”  
   
“Let’s fly,” Williams agreed. “We can double up on the brooms we have.”  
   
A few minutes later, they took to the air, Jensen snug at Jared’s back, both of them still barely able to believe that they’d defeated the Dementors so soundly; that they’d actually managed to _kill_ them.  
   
“You know,” Jensen shouted into his ear. “That was a brilliant idea to intertwine our wand beams, babe. The Sorting Hat did you an injustice; you should’ve been in Ravenclaw.”  
   
Jared laughed as a long-forgotten memory came to mind. “I almost was,” he said, much to Jensen’s shock. “But I was so scared about not fitting in that the Hat took pity on me. It put me in Hufflepuff because that’s the only House that welcomes people no matter where they come from or who they are. Open arms and no judgement. The moment it suggested Hufflepuff, I felt safe.”  
   
Jensen’s grip on him tightened. “I would’ve kept you safe.”  
   
“You _did_ keep me safe,” Jared yelled, eyes bright with joy as he smirked at Jensen over his shoulder. Jensen looked like he had little choice but to kiss him, and then steady the broom when Jared nearly lost control of it.  
   
Their shared happiness, however, died a swift death when they came upon the castle.  
   
Or, more accurately, when they came upon what had _been_ the castle. Now the grounds were strewn with rubble and debris and there was dust and soot and what looked like – Merlin help them – _blood_ everywhere.  
   
“Jared, into the Great Hall! Hurry!”  
   
Jared flew, speeding down and through the once majestic archways, not stopping until they reached the broken steps that led to the Great Hall, both of them jumping off the broom at once and striding into the school, their friends not far behind them.  
   
Their purposeful steps soon faltered.  
   
“Jensen,” Jared gasped, leaning into him as they took in the horror before their eyes. It was a row of bodies, every one of them shrouded in death. Big and small, adults and… _children_. He frantically searched the hall, taking a calming breath only when he found who he was looking for. “Neville!” He dragged Jensen along as he ran. “And Great Aunt Augusta, crikey!”  
   
Neville leapt on him as soon as he saw him, hugging him close, shaking uncontrollably, the dried-up blood from a nasty gash on his forehead flaking off on Jared’s robes as Jensen pulled Great Aunt Augusta into a hug; she shuddered and clung to him like a limpet.  
   
“Are you both all right?”  
   
She nodded, releasing Jensen only so she could hug Jared. “We’re fine. Thanks to my boy here.” She nodded in Neville’s direction, fit to bursting with pride. “You do your parents a great justice, lad. They’d be so proud of you…” Tears streamed from her eyes as Neville hugged her, and Jensen slowly pulled Jared away, giving them a bit of space.  
   
“Let’s go check up on the others,” Jensen suggested.  
   
It was the best and worst idea he’d had in recent memory.  
   
Best because many of their friends had made it through the battle, alive and well; worst because they’d lost too many who’d been near and dear to so many hearts.  
   
“Jared!” Charlie suddenly appeared in front of him, throwing his arms around Jared, stunning him and Jensen as they braced themselves for the worst, both of them looking to the floor and finding Fred’s lifeless body lying there, still and silent, Ron and George crying over him. Jared stared in shock, until his vision blurred with tears as he held Charlie in his arms, whispering nonsense, anything as long as it sounded consoling, until Jensen released his hand and walked away.  
   
Jared saw him hug Bill and then step back, squeezing his friend’s shoulder in sympathy, nodding at the rest of the Weasleys, mute with grief, because there were no words to assuage the misery of losing a much-loved son and brother and friend.  
   
He tracked Jensen’s steps with his eyes as Jensen walked, as he stood over Tonks and Remus lying on the floor on stretchers, their prone forms side by side, their hands less than a centimetre apart, together as always, even in death.  
   
Jared thought of their infant son, orphaned now, and he couldn’t hold back a hiccupping sob. Charlie held on tighter, but Jensen didn’t make a sound, nor did he shed a tear. He just kept walking, past the bodies of fallen Aurors, warriors just like him.  
   
The perils of war, Jared mused, staring as Jensen kept moving, almost as if his feet were working without his express consent, taking him towards the stairs that led down to the basement. Jared detached himself from Charlie, giving his old friend an apologetic look as he made his excuses and turned to follow Jensen – always following Jensen, he thought – down to the basement, like he’d done in the past, a million times or more, as he was assailed by memories of happier times.  
   
He stopped at the foot of the stairs, startled to find yet another row of bodies not yet shrouded, lining the corridor, from the alcove underneath the stairs almost halfway to the kitchens; the bodies of dead house elves who’d been caught in the crossfire.  
   
Jared made a concerted effort to move, his steps leaden as he walked, almost all the way down the line before he dropped to his knees on the floor beside Jensen, his hand reaching out and circling a delicate, bony ankle as his body was racked with sobs.  
   
_Fern._  
   
Jensen wrapped strong arms around him and tucked his face into the crook of Jared’s neck as Jared clung to him, crying into his robes like he’d done that night they’d first met, as Jensen quietly cried with him.  
   
He didn’t know how long they stayed there, but they only left the familiar comfort and safety of the alcove under the stairs when the news of Harry Potter’s death breached the castle walls.

                                                                                    

 

Who knew they’d had one last fight left in them?  
   
It didn’t make any sense until Jared saw _Neville_ – that same little tyke who’d happily toddled around after Jared, in his nappy, no less – stand up to _Voldemort_.  
   
Jared wouldn’t have believed it in a _fairytale_ , let alone in real life, but with his own eyes he watched as a flock of Thestrals, a band of house elves, a herd of Centaurs, and a bloody Hippogriff came to their aid. It looked like every resident of Hogsmeade was there as well, taking that last stand with them, parents and teachers and students, a scant group of Aurors, and a professional Quidditch team, for Merlin’s sake, taking to the sky as they cast spells and conjured Bludgers, beating them at the unsuspecting enemy below.  
   
He thought he’d seen everything, but then he and Jensen bumped into the _Ackleses_. They’d Portkeyed in from Sydney, travelling all through the night only to Apparate into Hogsmeade and become embroiled in the battle over there; they arrived at Hogwarts with Madam Rosmerta, stumbling upon Jensen and Jared mid-battle – both of them rendered speechless with shock as Jensen’s father confessed that he hadn’t been unable to stay away when he saw in the Family-Glass that his son, and his son’s Soul-Bonded _mate_ , were In Mortal Peril.  
   
Right then and there, as Jared watched Jensen hug his father breathtakingly tight, he decided that – magic or no magic – anything was possible if you had the people you loved most fighting by your side.  
   
And hey, last night they’d figured out a way to kill _Dementors_.  
   
Perhaps today was the day Harry (who was so _not_ dead it was a bleeding miracle) would kill – again, and hopefully for good this time – the darkest wizard to have ever lived.

 

                                                                                           

Everything Jared had ever read about wars in the past, whether it’d been in his History of Magic class or in his Muggle Studies class, had been inherently flawed.  
   
Sure, wars were destructive and devastating – soldiers fought, heroes rose, martyrs fell – and everyone acknowledged the spoils of victory just as surely as the ruin of defeat; they even made mention of how hard the rebuilding process was, but they never, ever mentioned just how _crippling_ it was to clean up, how it was difficult yet worthwhile, easy on the soul until one stumbled upon the severed limbs of the dead.  
   
At least they had magic to do it; however did the Muggles manage picking up the broken pieces of their lives without it?  
   
And Merlin, the funerals.  
   
One after another after another. Heartache and pain in a never-ending succession. So many dead, parents childless, children orphaned; it was hideous. It made him seethe. It made him ache. It made him so sad, he thought he’d never be happy again, but he muddled along, Jensen at his side, quiet and introspective, aloof, almost, as he dealt with the tragedy in his own way.  
   
They’d lost Lanette. Not to death, but to the solitude of her own mind. She’d vanished into herself, slowly forgetting them, completely forgetting Jonah. They’d warded her at St. Mungo’s and everyone in the ADU visited her on a regular basis, hoping to, one day soon perhaps, bring her back to them.  
   
Remus and Tonks had had an Auror’s funeral: a Twenty-One Wand Salute, three volleys blasted into the dawn sky as the haunting wail of bagpipes filled the air. They were both buried near Tonks’ father’s grave while her mother watched, young Teddy cradled in her arms.  
   
Harry had insisted that Snape, too, be laid to rest in a manner befitting a fallen member of the Order of the Phoenix and everyone was shocked to finally learn where the Potions Master’s true loyalties had lain.  
   
Hardest of all, though, was Fred’s funeral.  
   
Jared had no clue how they’d all managed to find the strength to stand there, on a hillside overlooking The Burrow, as Fred’s coffin was lowered into the ground beside his uncles, Fabian and Gideon, the very men Jared’s father had died protecting.  
   
Full circle, as Jensen always said: Death was inevitable, and life, just as inevitably, went on.  
   
There was nothing foul or fair about it.

                                                                                         

  
“Do you remember when we used to play Weasley Quidditch out here every summer?” Charlie asked, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips. Jared smirked and nodded; as if he could ever forget. “Good times. I mean, could any of us ever imagine things happening the way they did?” Charlie drew in a deep breath, savouring – just like Jared – the crispness of the early morning, the fresh air, and the warm breeze as they sat on the grass, out in the corner of the Weasleys’ garden that was farthest from the house.  
   
“Are you staying?” Jared asked quietly. “Or are you heading back to your fiery little pets soon?”  
   
Charlie’s smile grew. “Depends,” he said. “It’s only been a month. Mum’s still a mess. Dad’s…just lost, innit? George… You’ve seen him. He’s like a shell of himself. They need me to hang about, I s’pose. Although Percy’s being right lovable at the moment.”  
   
“He was shaken pretty badly, mate. Fred was his brother, too.”  
   
“I know,” Charlie said softly. “I know he regrets not having been a good enough brother to Fred until it was too late, but he’s got Penelope to look after him. Bill and Fleur are expecting; they’ll soon have their own little brood to deal with. Ron’s got Hermione, and bloody hell, even little Ginny’s all set to marry Harry someday soon.” He sighed. “Whether I stay or go hinges on everyone else. I’m hoping to find a reason to stay.”  
   
Jared grinned. “That’s brilliant! Everyone at home will be chuffed to hear it!”  
   
“What about you? Would you be glad to know that I’m going to stay in England?” Charlie asked him, and Jared laughed, punching him in the shoulder.  
   
“Of course I’d be glad to get my best mate back! I’ve seriously missed having you around, you know?” He playfully ruffled Charlie’s ginger hair. “What about you, eh? ‘Bout time you found your own reason to stay here at home. One that doesn’t breathe fire, that is. Is there anyone special in your life?” Jared asked, teasing and curious. “You’ve never mention much in your letters.” He frowned. “Not that you write very many letters. The only person I know who’s worse at keeping in touch is Jensen.”  
   
“Ah, Jensen.” Charlie fell back against the grass, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as he peered up at Jared. “What’s that about?”  
   
Jared smiled; he could feel his cheeks flood with warmth that had nothing to do with the sun shining down on them. “It’s what it’s always been about.”  
   
“So where Jensen goes, there you follow?” Jared shrugged and Charlie shook his head. “Some things never change, even though they should.”  
   
“What’d you mean?”  
   
“He treated you like shite, Jared. Don’t think I never noticed.”  
   
“He did not!” Jared exclaimed, affronted on Jensen’s behalf. “Or, well, maybe he was a smug, snarky bastard but I gave as good as I got.” Jared bit his lip. “Besides, he was different when it was just the two of us. And he’s different now.”  
   
“He’s an Auror, I know. Another notch on his belt, no doubt,” Charlie drawled. “But now that the war’s over, now that he’s reunited with his family, is there still a place for you in his life? Or will he choose them over you again?” he asked, and it the one question Jared’d been dreading to even ask himself. “Even now, he’s gone for days on end while you flit about between here and Neville’s. In limbo while you wait for him to make up his mind. Jensen may’ve mucked about with us, Jared, but when it came down to doing his duty, he’s never wavered. He will always hold himself high above the rest of us.”  
   
“That’s not true,” Jared argued. “You don’t know him like I do! Jensen’s _nothing_ like that!”  
   
“Jensen’s nothing like _what?_ ”  
   
Jared whirled about on the grass to see Jensen looming above them, looked a bit worn and haggard, but still the best thing Jared’d ever seen. “Nothing,” Jared replied softly, holding out his hand so Jensen could pull him to his feet. “You all right?”  
   
“Yeah,” Jensen muttered a little dispassionately, looking off into the distance; Jared wondered how much of the conversation he’d overheard. He squeezed Jensen’s hand and that gorgeous green gaze entangled with his again; Jared smiled. “It’s done,” Jensen said. “The last of the hearings. The Wizengamot’s been at it ‘round the clock almost, sending off the remaining Death Eaters to Azkaban. Everyone but the Malfoys, and Harry’s standing by that decision.” He looked down at Charlie, so Jared looked too, but his old friend seemed, for all intents and purposes, like he was taking a nap. “Can we talk for a bit?”  
   
Jared’s heart flew to his throat with such swiftness, it threatened to choke him. “Yeah. ‘Course. Let’s go for a walk.” Leaving Charlie where he was, they walked to another end of the garden, where the Puffskein patch was; it now housed Ginny’s Pygmy Puffs. Jared tried hard to be patient and wait for Jensen to say something but he couldn’t, blurting out his greatest fear with his next breath. “Are you leaving me again?”  
   
“What?” Jensen looked genuinely flummoxed and Jared could’ve smacked himself for letting Charlie’s words get to him.  
   
“Never mind.”  
   
“Why would you think I’d leave you, for Merlin’s sake? We’re Soul-Bonded, you twit. Neither of us would survive that!”  
   
“That’s why you’re not leaving? Because you _can’t?_ ” Jared asked, more than a little hysterical.  
   
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Is that shaggy mop of yours suffocating your brain somehow? Did it slip your mind that I love you more than the air I breathe?” Jared’s delighted laugh snuck up on him, and he glommed onto Jensen, hugging him had and pressing smacking little kisses all over his freckled cheeks. “I take it all back,” Jensen said, sighing. “No way a Ravenclaw would ever be as daft as you, brat.”  
   
“Prat,” Jared chided playfully. “I’m a Hufflepuff through and through.”  
   
“My bristly little badger cub,” Jensen murmured, stroking a hand down Jared’s cheek. “I need to tell you something.”  
   
“Yeah? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”  
   
“Depends on how you look at it.” Jensen shrugged. “Shacklebolt’s asked if I want to stay on as an Auror.”  
   
“What’d you say?”  
   
“That I wanted to talk to you first,” Jensen admitted, looking uncharacteristically unsure.  
   
“Well, you’re brilliant at it. I reckon the Auror Office will be lucky to have you.”  
   
“Shacklebolt said exactly the same thing.”  
   
“So why the hesitation? Will the ADU be disbanded now that the threat is gone?”  
   
“Yeah. He wants me in the Auror School, training others.”  
   
“That’s great. Right?”  
   
“I’d be based in London.”  
   
“So? Oh.”  
   
“Oh.”  
   
“Jensen, if it’s what you want, then I’ll move, too.”  
   
“It’s a solitary life, Jared. I’ll be away from home all the time.” Jensen rested his head against Jared’s shoulder. “I don’t want that.”  
   
Jared held on to him for dear life, per the usual for them. “Forget duty. Forget destiny. Put aside everything, Jensen, and look into your heart. What do _you_ want?”  
   
“I want…” Jensen started, looking Jared in the eyes, “…what you want.” Jared blinked. “I want you, in my life, every day, close enough to touch. I want us. Our family: Neville and Great Aunt Augusta, Rogue and Penny, Florence and Daphne. I want Jonah to come and live with us; he likes us best, anyway, and the others can come and babysit whenever they like. I want to play Quidditch and love every moment of it. I want to always have our friends nearby. I want to be on better terms with my family. I want them to get to know you and love you as much as I do.” Jensen looked up at him sheepishly. “I want a lot of things.”  
   
Jared smiled, pulling Jensen into a crushing hug. “What’s stopping you then?”  
   
“Being an Auror is important work. It’s for the greater good.”  
   
“You’ve more than paid your dues, though,” Jared reminded him. “And it’s not as if you can’t play with the Falcons and then teach a class at Auror School in the off season, right?” Jensen looked taken aback, as if he’d never even considered the possibility. “What’s stopping you from having it all, Ravenclaw? If anyone can manage it, you can.” He kissed Jensen’s gaping mouth as it dropped open in surprise. “Plus, you’ve got me to help you out. Bonus.”  
   
“You’re too bloody smart for your own good,” Jensen muttered, trying and failing to hide his smile.  
   
“So, Jonah, huh?”  
   
Jensen grimaced guiltily. “I might’ve already told Julian we’d taken him in. Until Lanette gets better... _If_ she gets better. But no matter, she’ll still learn to love him, because how can anyone not fall in love with him? He’s adorable. All chubby and sweet and dimply-cheeked when he grins…”  
   
“Careful, you’re blushing again.” Jensen glared at him but Jared just chuckled. “I adore that baby, and you know it.”  
   
“I was counting on it.”  
   
“I might’ve told Julian we’d take him in, too,” Jared confessed, smirking.  
   
Jensen laughed. “No wonder he looked so smug. Meddlesome old bastard.”  
   
“So, are we good?”  
   
“We’re brilliant,” Jensen stated, waving at someone over Jared’s shoulder. “That’s Kingsley. Wonder what he’s doing here.”  
   
“Let’s go find out,” Jared said, slinging an arm around his shoulders as they walked back towards the house; Charlie’d apparently gone inside already.  
   
Kingsley – Jared’d tried to call him Minister Shacklebolt, but the man had threatened to hex him, so Kingsley it was – was there to get Jensen’s decision. He didn’t appear too surprised by Jensen’s response, but he was certainly amenable to the offer to teach a course in Auror School in the Falcons off-season.  
   
“So you’re both back with the Falcons for good then?” he asked.  
   
“Well, I never really left the team,” Jared said. “We just had a rather erratic season, what with all the goings on over the past couple of years.”  
   
“And I don’t know yet if they’d be willing to take me back,” Jensen said, smirking. “But the chances are pretty good, I’d say.”  
   
Kingsley grinned. “I know. I’ve watched you two play against my team – the Prides – and it was like watching the Broadmoor boys back in action. My dad used to take me to Falcons’ games just to see them go at it. Brilliant fun. Which is the other, more ulterior, motive for my visit, because, sorry to say, Jensen, you are not subtle. I didn’t, not for a moment, believe you would ever choose a Ministry job over Quidditch and I was right.” He sat back in his chair and smirked at them. “I like being right.”  
   
“Good to know, _Minister_ ,” Jensen quipped. “What are these ulterior motives you speak of?”  
   
“The Four Hundred and Twenty Third Quidditch World Cup, gentlemen,” Kingsley stated officiously. “It was cancelled amidst Death Eater threats earlier this year, but the Norwegian Ministry have given it the go-ahead now that we’ve vanquished the threat, so I’ve decided to send our teams out there. I think the wizarding world could do with a bit of a boost, and, who doesn’t enjoy a good game of Quidditch?”  
   
Jensen’s eyes gleamed with excitement but Jared, ever the practical one, sputtered. “It’s June! The World Cup’s usually held in August! That’s less than two months for Norway to organize the biggest sporting event in the wizarding world!”  
   
Kingsley rolled his eyes, and on him the move was rather regal; it was a neat trick. “We’re _wizards_ , Jared.”  
   
“He tends to forget,” Jensen joked, dodging out of the way of Jared’s kick. “Aside from building and securing the stadium and the rest, what about the actual teams? England, Scotland, Wales - Merlin, even Ireland - won’t have played for ages, whereas the rest of Europe has been bashing on. We’ll get trounced.”  
   
Jared snorted. “We got trounced last year. When we had four bloody years to prepare for it.”  
   
“That’s because we didn’t have the best Beaters the League has ever seen playing for England back in 1994. It’ll be different this time. We’ll have an edge,” Kingsley declared nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the weather and not the fact that he’d pretty much bestowed on them the highest honour one could give a professional Quidditch player.  
   
Jared shot a look at Jensen. “He does mean us, right?”  
   
“Fairly certain he does,” Jensen confirmed, smug smirk firmly in place.  
   
“I’ve been chatting to Mark Sheppard,” Kingsley told them. “I’ve asked him to have a look around the league and pick an Alpha team for England, along with a reserve squad. I’ve asked the managers of the Prides and the Harpies to do the same for the Scottish and Welsh teams. I've heard that the Irish Minister has entrusted Jeff Morgan with that task. There’ll be no tryouts; it’s far too lengthy a process. This way, it’ll give the new national teams time until the World Cup to practice.”  
   
“It’s a good idea,” Jensen agreed.  
   
“It’s definitely doable,” Jared granted.  
   
“Excellent!” Kingsley clapped his hands and stood. “You two report to Sheppard posthaste; leave the rest to my Office.” He nodded towards the kitchen. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just visit with Molly and Arthur before I leave. I was promised tea and scones.” He stood, picking up his cane, the one that held his wand, and nodded his farewell. “Gentlemen, adieu.”  
   
“Cheers, Kingsley,” Jensen called out as he left and Charlie and Ron loped into the room.  
   
“We heard,” Ron said, a melancholic sort of smile on his face. “I expect free tickets. That is all. Ta very much.”  
   
Jared grinned. “Done.”  
   
Charlie, though, stared Jensen down. “So you picked Quidditch over the Ministry, eh?”  
   
“No,” Jensen said, his gaze direct and serious, belying the friendly smile playing about his mouth. “I picked Jared.”  
   
“Good,” Charlie said after an age, after a staring contest with Jensen that had Jared and Ron exchanging bewildered, quizzical looks, before Charlie smiled, as if satisfied with whatever he’d seen in Jensen’s gaze. “Just checking.” He ruffled Jared’s hair. “If you two are going to be in the World Cup, then I might hang about here at home until then. See if you can bring the Cup back to England.”  
   
Jensen snorted. “Don’t hold your breath, mate.”  
   
When Mrs. Weasley called out to tell them that tea was served, both her sons made a beeline for the kitchen, but Jensen held back, stopping Jared in the middle of the Weasleys’ living room.  
   
“Hey,” he said, reaching up to brush Jared’s shaggy fringe out of his eyes. “About what we were saying before… Is there anything _you_ want that I haven’t thought of? Something just for yourself that you’ve always wanted?”  
   
“I’ve got everything I need right here,” Jared whispered, looking right at Jensen and smiling. “But if you really insist, there is one thing you could give me.”  
   
Jensen cupped his face, his thumb tracing the outline of Jared’s dimple. “Anything, babe.”  
   
“How about a ring?”Jensen’s breath stuttered as Jared let the implications of his request sink in. “How about we bind ourselves to one another of our own accord this time? On our own terms and not those of some mysterious benefactor? Make it official?” Jared inched closer until his mouth was inches away from Jensen’s. “Marry me?”  
   
Jensen laughed, the sound joyful and carefree, before closing the gap and kissing Jared breathless. “I’ll have to check my calendar. I’m going to be a very busy man, you know.”  
   
“By all means,” Jared graciously agreed. “No rush. I’m not going anywhere.”  
   
“A ring, eh?” Jensen regarded him thoughtfully. “I have it on very good authority that my Great Grandmama’s Marquise Sapphire might fit you. She was apparently a rather beefy woman.” Jared groaned, snorting with laughter. “I’m sure it’ll fit your Yeti fingers. And if not, I can have Mother re-size it for you.”  
   
“Do it and die, you wanker.”  
   
And as they went off to have tea and scones with the Weasleys, Hermione, the new Minister of Magic, and The Boy Who Bloody Well Saved Them All, Jared thought about what he’d wanted out of life, and what he’d gotten out of life, and realized that, like everyone else at the table, and everyone else they knew, it didn’t matter if you’d been dealt a bad hand; what mattered most was how you chose to play the cards you’d been given.  
   
Fair or foul, life – and love – was only what _you_ made of it.  
 

  
                                                                                        

 

                                          

   
   
Hundreds of miles away in Scotland, on the parapets of Hogwarts Castle, the Fat Friar hovered, gazing out at the setting sun.  
   
“Good Evening, my lady,” he called out, just as the Grey Lady slunk up next to him. “Another glorious day of freedom, eh?” She nodded regally, her expression sad as she took in the spots on the grounds where the ravages of battle were still visible. The Friar tutted in sympathy. “Give it time; all will be well eventually.”  
   
“Did you see them?” she asked, her soft voice lilting as she sighed. It was the first time she’d spoken since her conversation with that Potter lad the night of the battle; the Friar counted it as a win. Patience and good humour always won out in the end.  
   
“I did,” he replied, a fond smile gracing his features. “They sought shelter in my alcove, just as they’d done countless times in the past.” He chortled gleefully. “I always tried to give them a bit of privacy, but that was my home, you know? Not my fault that I heard their every wish, spoken or otherwise.” He snuck a look at his companion. “They looked happy, did they not? When all was said and done, that is?”  
   
“They did,” she answered with a smile, meaning that she’d sought them out as well, her affection for her favourite student still abundantly clear in her expression. “We did well, you and I.”  
   
“That we did,” the Friar agreed jovially. “Although we did have a little help. Death steals our magic from us.”  
   
The Grey Lady’s face fell; the Friar reckoned she would’ve cried if she could’ve. “She died doing what she did best. Protecting our little ones. Keeping them safe. She was so very brave; so very good.” The Lady heaved a sigh. “And she was always nice to me. Nice in a way I never was to her kind when I was alive.”  
   
“They are a remarkable, forgiving lot, aren’t they?” the Friar asked.  
   
“Who are?” the Bloody Baron demanded, appearing out of nowhere, the ruddy git. It was a good thing the Friar could no longer be startled; he would’ve expired from the shock of it.  
   
“House elves, my lord,” he replied. “It’s why I like being in the Basement. Because we Hufflepuffs get to share it with them.”  
   
“They’re also bloody useful to us, living or dead,” Sir Nicholas commented as he floated out through the wall of the Astronomy Tower bearing a tray with four ghostly goblets filled with fire and smoke. They each took one. “And who shall we toast to tonight? Which fallen hero shall we honour?”  
   
“House elves, apparently,” the Baron replied.  
   
“Some other night, perhaps, my lord,” the Grey Lady said. “Tonight we celebrate the life and death of only one of their number. To Fern.”  
   
The Fat Friar smiled as all four of them raised their goblets to the setting sun.  
   
“To Fern.”

  
                                                                   

 

                                             
                                            

 

                                            

 

 

 


End file.
